4     VERSTYO     CA  RIVERS  DE    LIBRARY 


31210018386522 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


IN  MEMORY  OF 

Professor  Henry  J. 


PRESENTED  BY 

Mrs  Fannie  Q.  Paul 

Mrs  Annie  Q.  Hadley 

Mrs  Elizabeth  si.  Flowers 


A   MINISTER   OF  THE   WORLD 


Wherever  he  turned  his  eyes  that  morning  lie  saw  the  one  face. 


A  MINISTER 

_  — — 

OF  THE  WORLD 


BY 


CAROLINE    ATWATER    MASON 

AUTHOR   OF    "A   TITLED   MAIDEN,"     "A    LOYAL   HEART,"    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
ANSON   D.    F.    RANDOLPH   AND   CO. 

182  FIFTH  AVENUE 


7  3 


Copyrighted,   1894,  for  the  "Ladies'  Home  Journal,' 
BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1805, 
BY  ANSON  D.  F.  RANDOLPH  AND  COMPANY. 


2Emtotrsttg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


"  Take  any  of  the  sons  our  Age  has  nursed, 
Fed  with  her  food  and  taught  her  best  arid  worst; 
Suppose  no  great  disaster;  look  not  nigh 
On  hidden  hours  of  his  extremity  ; 
But  watch  him  like  the  flickering  magnet  stirred 
By  each  imponderable  look  and  word, 
And  think  how  firm  a  courage  every  day 
He  needs  to  bear  him  on  life's  common  way, 
Since  even  at  the  best  his  spirit  moves 
Thro"1  such  a  tourney  of  conflicting  loves,  — 
Unwisely  sought,  untruly  called  untrue  ; 
Beloved  and  hated  and  beloved  anew; 
Till  in  the  changing  whirl  of  praise  and  blame 
He  feels  himself  the  same  and  not  the  same, 
A  nd  often,  overworn  and  overwon, 
Knows  all  a  dream  and  wishes  all  were  done. 

I  know  it,  such  an  one  these  eyes  have  seen 

About  the  world,  with  his  unworldly  mien, 

And  often  idly  hopeless,  often  bent 

On  some  tumultuous  deed  aud  vehement, 

Because  his  spirit  he  can  nowise  fit 

To  the  world's  ways  and  settled  rule  of  it, 

But  thro'  contented  thousands  travels  on 

Like  a  sad  heir  in  disinherison, 

And  rarely  by  great  thought  or  brave  emprise 

Comes  out  above  his  life's  perplexities, 

Looks  through  the  rifted  cloudland,  and  sees  clear 

Fate  at  his  feet  and  the  high  God  anear:" 

FREDERIC  W.  H.  MYERS. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Wherever  he  turned  his  eyes  that  morning 

he  saw  the  one  face Frontispiece 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  perhaps,  if  I  do  not 

rise  " To  face  page  23 

She  was  the  young   lady  who  was  most 

intently  observed "          36 

"  There   ought  to  be  a  kind  of  invisible 

affinity  between  us  " "          50 

Across   the  room,  Stephanie  Loring  was 

the  centre  of  a  group "          84 

As  the  light  of  the  lamp  struck  upward  in 

her  face,  he  recognized  Emily  Merle  .         "         119 

Emily  joins  them,  and  the  women  meet 

with  unaffected  kindness "         150 


A  MINISTER  OF  THE  WORLD 


7  "..:   .  '  i     -  t:,i   ;•.:.-".:.-:   -^  -  r 
•    -::       :   ;--:.:     :    - -  :.v 


:.••:-:•      :  -       - 

:  :-. 


:•:  •--.  : 


E  is  a  tarn  of  looBt-trees  in 

:  -.  t  :  irf  .  '--^  -  -'.  T  :.:  —  :;-  :  z.  —  e 
er  edge  of  die  sidewndk;  and  ft 
t-i  f  ".  i  "..:...-*  __  r  i  ~  -  n  .  •  .  z..  if  _: 
r  spaces  of  the  air  woe  occupied 


SOEDS.    Below,  on  our  OVA  level,  was  die  spicy 
breath  of  die  giidcn  rases  and  dw  fcq^ti^, 

^7;  ~-    r~7t:":ff    ::    :~.-i   f;T..  ;.:       ^  _:   :.r.e    :n- 
giance  of  die  locost-UoasoHS  nas  a  nrr.niuily 


as  if  ft  knew  dot  its  &mOr  had  seen  better 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


days  and  was  not  held  in  the  high  regard  of  an 
earlier  time,  and  hence  it  would  not  descend  to 
delight  the  sense  of  the  sordid  folk  with  free 
bestowal.  Still  more  delicate  and  more  elusive 
was  the  scent  of  the  grape-vine  blossom ;  but 
this  was  shyness  without  the  assumption  of 
superiority.  It  was  forever  coming  to  you 
from  around  a  corner,  but  if  you  went  to  the 
corner  to  catch  it,  it  would  have  escaped  you. 
All  of  these  precious  odors,  and  I  dare  not  say 
how  many  more,  were  making  the  air  around 
the  parsonage  intoxicating  that  early  afternoon. 
The  house  was  a  white  cottage  with  a  wide 
front  and  a  small  veranda  on  which  the  house 
door  stood  open  directly  into  the  sitting-room. 
There  was  a  cleanly  swept,  home-woven  carpet 
on  the  floor  of  this  room,  a  table  with  a  red 
cotton  cover;  and  on  a  white  painted  shelf, 
between  two  vases  filled  with  garden  flowers, 
a  clock  ticked  with  sharp  emphasis  from 
its  Gothic  wooden  case.  The  emptiness  and 
orderliness  of  the  room,  the  open  door,  the 
very  silence  itself,  seemed  to  impart  a  sense  of 
expectancy,  but  no  one  was  to  be  seen.  Out- 
side, the  bees  hummed  drowsily  in  the  yellow 
roses  which  were  dazzlingly  bright  in  the  broad 
sunshine ;  a  light  breeze  passed  now  and  then 
10 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


over  the  grass,  which  grew  as  high  as  the  palings 
of  the  fence  on  either  side  of  the  walk.  It  was 
already  ripe  for  the  scythe,  for  there  had  been  an 
early  spring  in  Thornton.  Fairly  swamped  in 
the  tall  timothy  stood  deep-red  peonies,  their 
petals  dropping  and  drifting  heedlessly  around 
them  in  the  sea-green  depths  of  the  grass. 
Standing  on  the  walk  between  the  clumps  of 
peonies  one  could  look  down  across  the  clover- 
fields  which  adjoined  the  parsonage  acre  and 
see  the  lovely  Thornton  valley,  with  its  smooth 
green  meadows,  its  graceful  elm-trees  dotted 
along  the  river's  bank,  and  the  wooded  slopes 
of  the  enclosing  hills.  Beyond  the  parsonage, 
as  one  looked  up  the  village  street,  stood  the 
white  church  with  its  square,  ungraceful  tower, 
and  its  uncompromising  austerity  of  outline.  A 
row  of  maple-trees  grew  before  it,  concealing 
the  village  from  view.  But  there  was  not  much 
to  conceal.  Thornton  was  only  a  cluster  of 
houses,  each  a  farmhouse  in  its  way,  with  a 
church,  a  post-office,  a  store,  and  a  blacksmith's 
shop,  to  supply  the  actual  needs  of  the  surround- 
ing neighborhood.  For  those  who  confessed 
to  complex  and  ambitious  demands  there  was 
Pembroke,  the  county-seat,  only  seven  miles 
away,  where  were  to  be  found  all  the  refine- 
ii 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


ments  and  luxuries  of  life.  But  Pembroke 
with  its  noise  of  locomotives  and  factories  was 
well  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  and  Thornton 
dozed  on  in  its  dreamy  stillness,  undisturbed 
thus  far,  even  by  the  advent  of  the  "  summer 
boarder,"  an  unconscious,  unspoiled,  country 
village. 

Down  the  street  a  light  open  wagon  contain- 
ing two  women,  one  of  whom  was  driving  the 
somewhat  spiritless  horse,  could  now  be  seen 
approaching  the  parsonage.  The  clock  on  the 
white  shelf  had  just  drawn  up  all  its  vibrations 
into  a  single  distinct  effort  and  clanged  out  two 
resonant  strokes.  A  slender  gray-haired  woman 
in  a  checked  cotton  gown  and  white  apron  came 
out  to  the  door  just  as  the  clock  struck,  and 
stood  watching  the  horse  and  wagon  as  they 
drew  near. 

"It's  Aunt  Lecty  and  Elizy,  I  declare!" 
she  exclaimed  in  a  shrill  but  gentle  voice. 
"They've  got  here  first  of  all !  " 

There  was  silence  in  the  house  as  before,  and 
after  a  moment's  pause  the  woman  stepped  back 
within  the  room,  and  addressing  herself  toward 
a  door  which  stood  open  on  the  left,  she  cried  : 

"  Stephen,  don't  you  hear  what  I  say?  Lecty 
Wescott  's  bringing  Aunt  Elizy ;  they  've  turned 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


in  already,  and  you  must  hurry  and  help  her  to 
get  out  of  the  wagon." 

In  the  room  beyond,  at  an  oblong  table  cov- 
ered with  green  enamelled  cloth,  a  young  man 
was  sitting  in  his  shirt-sleeves  with  his  back  to 
the  door,  writing.  The  room  was  not  a  large 
one,  and  its  walls  were  nearly  lined  with  book- 
shelves, rising  two-thirds  of  the  distance  to  the 
low  ceiling.  Above  the  books,  facing  the  door, 
hung  a  photograph  of  Holman  Hunt's  "  Light 
of  the  World." 

On  being  thus  appealed  to,  the  young  man 
rose  from  the  table,  stretched  one  long  arm  up 
behind  the  door  and  produced  a  coat  which  he 
drew  on  as  he  crossed  the  sitting-room  with  a 
few  strides  and  followed  the  woman,  who  was 
his  mother,  out  through  the  clean,  sunny 
kitchen,  to  the  horse-block  at  the  side  of  the 
house.  He  was  a  tall,  athletic  fellow,  this 
Stephen  Castle,  looking  less  than  his  eight  and 
twenty  years,  with  light  hair  close  cropped,  a 
finely  browned  skin,  and  a  pair  of  good  gray 
eyes.  There  was  about  him  in  rare  degree  that 
indefinable  personal  attraction  which  gives 
charm  to  every  word  and  motion  of  some  men 
and  women.  His  face  wore  the  stamp  of 
thought  and  study,  and  indeed  there  was  upon 
13 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


it  a  suggestion  of  spiritual  purity  and  earnest- 
ness, which  united  with  the  boyish  freedom  of 
his  movements  and  his  thoroughgoing  manli- 
ness, to  make  a  peculiarly  winning  personality, 
even  to  one  who  saw  him  only  for  a  moment. 
He  was  the  pastor  of  the  church  in  Thornton, 
and  had  been  for  four  years,  coming  thither 
direct  from  the  Divinity  School.  With  him 
came  his  mother,  a  widow,  who,  having  no 
other  child,  followed  him  wherever  he  went, 
making  a  home  for  him  and  devoting  herself  to 
him  and  his  interests  absolutely.  Mrs.  Castle 
had  been  country  born  and  bred  herself,  and 
Stephen  had  pursued  his  studies  in  the  humbler 
and  more  rural  schools  of  New  England,  so  that 
neither  of  them  felt  anything  of  deprivation  or 
sacrifice  in  settling  in  a  little  village  like  Thorn- 
ton and  adapting  themselves  to  the  ways  of  a 
farming  parish.  Indeed,  Stephen  Castle  would 
not  have  believed  then  that  he  could  have  been 
in  his  element  in  a  city  church.  He  doubted 
whether  he  was  man  enough  to  preach  to  this 
handful  of  country  folk ;  he  had  not  learned  his 
own  powers  yet ;  his  weaknesses  he  thought  he 
clearly  understood. 

Four  years  were  not  needed,  even  with  the 
slow  and  unenthusiastic  habit  of  New  England 
14 


A  Minister  of -the  World 


country  people,  to  win  for  the  young  pastor  the 
almost  adoring  love  of  his  parishioners.  They 
petted  and  praised  him ;  boasted  of  him  wher- 
ever they  went ;  treasured  and  repeated  the 
things  he  said,  as  men  do  the  sayings  of  a 
darling  child;  gloried  in  his  physical  and 
intellectual  strength,  and  yet  more  in  his  ob- 
vious weaknesses ;  and,  in  fine,  idolized  him 
and  spoiled  him  as  far  as  this  kind  of  devotion 
could  spoil.  Stephen  was  of  too  fine  a  nature 
to  become  vain  or  assuming ;  if  he  grew  some- 
what imperious,  it  was  in  so  fine  a  degree  that 
it  merely  served  to  attract  men  and  women 
more  irresistibly  to  him. 

He  stood  now  on  the  rough  stone  block 
before  the  kitchen  door  and  lifted  the  little  old 
lady  whom  his  mother  called  "  Aunt  Elizy " 
from  the  wagon  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been  a 
child,  then  holding  her  withered,  chilly  little 
hands  in  his,  which  were  warm  and  steady,  he 
looked  with  a  deference  which  sat  well  upon 
him  into  her  face  and  said : 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come,  Aunt 
Eliza ;  you  don't  know  how  glad  and  proud 
you  make  us." 

The  old  lady  was  dressed  in  a  black  silk 
gown  and  an  old-fashioned  fringed  mantilla. 
'5 


A  Minister  of  tbe  World 


She  wore  a  large  black  bonnet,  under  which 
appeared  the  snow-white  crinkled  frill  of  her 
cap,  and  some  soft  gray  hair.  Her  face  was 
fairly  tiny  and  much  wrinkled,  but  sensitive 
and  refined  in  its  expression,  and  the  hazel 
eyes  had  almost  the  brightness  of  young  eyes, 
as  she  looked  up  with  a  certain  archness,  which 
in  some  women  lasts  a  lifetime,  and  said  : 

"Then  why  don't  you  kiss  me,  Stephen?" 

At  this  the  middle-aged  woman  who  still  sat 
in  the  wagon,  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  If  you  don't  beat  all,  Aunt  Elizy,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  I  'd  never  have  brought  you  down 
here  if  I  'd  s'posed  you  were  goin'  to  perform 
like  this.  Mis'  Castle,  I  should  n't  think  you  'd 
stand  there  and  allow  such  goin's  on  !  " 

Quite  regardless  of  her  noisy  banter,  Stephen 
bent  and  gravely  kissed  the  little  lady,  and  then 
drawing  her  hand  into  his  arm  he  carefully  led 
her  up  the  steps  and  into  the  house.  It  was 
only  the  door  of  a  very  humble  country  parson- 
age, but  the  young  man's  chivalrous  courtesy, 
and  the  old  lady's  quiet  grace  and  fine  manner 
would  have  been  in  place  at  the  entrance  to  a 
royal  house. 


16 


II. 


.  .  .  And  yet  I  knew  a  maid, 
A  young  enthusiast,  who  escaped  these  bonds; 
Her  eye  was  not  the  mistress  of  her  heart ; 
Far  less  did  rules  prescribed  by  passive  taste, 
Or  barren,  intermeddling  subtleties, 
Perplex  her  mind.  .  .  . 
Whate'er  the  scene  presented  to  her  view, 
That  was  the  best,  to  that  she  was  attuned 
By  her  benign  simplicity  of  life, 
And  through  a  perfect  happiness  of  soul. 

WORDSWORTH. 


NE  after  another,  at  longer  or  shorter 
intervals,  half-a-dozen  carriages  were 
now  driven  into  the  parsonage  yard, 
and  their  owners  were  received  by  Mrs.  Castle 
and  conducted  to  her  own  bedroom.  Having 
laid  aside  their  bonnets  and  frowned  for  an  in- 
stant at  their  front  hair  in  the  looking-glass, 
they  crossed  the  large  and  rather  empty  sitting- 
room  and  entered  the  parlor,  where  chairs  and 
tables  had  been  pushed  to  the  wall  to  leave  all 
the  middle  space  free  for  the  quilting-frame,  on 
which  was  stretched  a  marvellous  piece  of  Mrs. 
17 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Castle's  handiwork  constructed  of  small  cotton 
squares  of  nearly  every  color  united  by  bands 
of  white. 

"Ain't  it  a  beauty?" 

"There  don't  anything  beat  Irish  chain,  does 
there,  Mis'  Castle?" 

"  What  if  we  should  spoil  it  in  the  quiltin'  ? 
I  'm  most  afraid  to  touch  it,  it  is  so  hand- 
some." 

These  and  many  kindred  exclamations  were 
made  as  the  guests  entered  the  cool  parlor  and 
took  the  places  assigned  them  by  Mrs.  Castle 
around  the  quilting-frame.  Aunt  Eliza  alone 
did  not  join  the  party,  but  sat  in  state  in  a 
high-backed,  haircloth-covered  easy-chair,  with 
a  little  white  knitting-work  in  her  hands.  More 
gently  born  and  bred  than  her  neighbors,  being 
a  fine  illustration  of  the  "old  school"  type  of 
woman,  Aunt  Eliza's  presence  was  greatly  de- 
sired in  the  Thornton  gatherings  as  imparting 
something  of  distinction.  Her  advanced  age 
and  increasing  feebleness,  however,  generally 
served  as  sufficient  reason  for  refusing  all  invi- 
tations, hence  Mrs.  Castle's  "quilting"  was  held 
to  be  highly  favored,  and  many  admiring  re- 
marks were  made  to  the  effect  that  "Aunt 
Elizy  was  just  as  smart  as  ever,"  and  that  "  she 
18 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


would  n't  have  come  anywheres  else  only  to  the 
parsonage,  but  of  course  she  knew  it  would 
please  Mr.  Castle,  and  wa'  n't  it  a  sight  to  see 
how  attentive  he  was  to.  her  ?  And  to  hear  her 
call  him  Stephen  !  "  The  story  of  the  kiss  at 
the  kitchen  door  was  speedily  set  in  circulation 
and  awakened  a  vast  amount  of  subdued  hilarity, 
of  the  form  considered  suitable  to  a  party  at 
the  parsonage.  As  "  Lecty,"  or  Mrs.  Wescott, 
the  niece  of  Aunt  Eliza  who  had  accompanied 
her,  confided  to  her  right-hand  neighbor  at  the 
quilt : 

"  It  ain't  goin'  to  do  to  train  too  hard  when 
you  come  to  the  minister's  house." 

The  disposition  to  "  train,"  however,  was 
not  to  be  wholly  suppressed,  and  presently 
Mrs.  Wescott  remarked,  with  a  peculiarly  mis- 
chievous glance  at  a  fair- haired  girl  in  a  white 
gown  who  had  come  with  her  mother  and  was 
quilting  demurely  at  her  side,  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  rest  thinks,  and  I 
don't  hardly  dare  to  say  anything  before  Mis' 
Castle,  but  after  all  it  does  strike  me  that 
there  's  something  awful  suspicious  about  this 
quilt."  Then  looking  over  her  shoulder  she 
cried  in  mock  consternation :  "  Oh,  my  gra- 
cious, the  Elder  ain't  nowheres  about,  is  he  ?  " 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"Why,  Lecty,  what  do  you  mean?"  asked 
one  of  the  women. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  I  don't  dare  to  say  another 
word ;  Mis'  Castle  looks  so  sober  I  'm  scared, 
and  if  the  Elder  heard  me  he  might  turn  me 
out  of  meetin'.  But  there 's  one  thing  about 
it,"  she  cried,  the  sense  of  fun  flashing  from 
her  black  eyes,  "  if  he  does,  I  '11  just  tell  the 
deacons  I  saw  him  kissin'  Aunt  Elizy  outside 
the  kitchen  door,  right  under  them  old  locust- 
trees,  with  my  own  eyes  ! "  And  at  this  she 
burst  into  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter  in  which 
everybody  joined,  —  everybody,  that  is,  except 
Aunt  Eliza.  She  was  not  known  to  have 
laughed  aloud  since  her  husband  died  twenty 
years  ago. 

"  But  what  is  it  you  mean,  Lee,  about  this 
quilt  being  suspicious?"  asked  the  hostess, 
when  the  laughter  had  subsided.  "  I  am  sure 
I  don't  understand." 

"  Oh,  now,  Mis'  Castle,  don't  you  be  too  in- 
nocent. You  know  I  always  speak  right  out 
and  say  what  all  the  rest  thinks.  It  ain't  to  be 
supposed  that  our  minister  is  goin'  to  live  single 
all  his  days,  when  every  girl  between  Thornton 
Four  Corners  and  Pembroke  is  makin'  eyes  at 
him,  and  I  don't  know 's  I  wonder  any ;  I  'd 
20 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


make  eyes  at  him  myself  if  't  would  be  any  use, 
—  that  is,  if  Hiram  had  n't  any  objections,"  she 
added,  with  a  quaint  wit  which  made  her  the 
leader  of  conversation  in  all  the  Thornton 
gatherings.  "When  folks  go  to  makin'  quilts," 
she  went  on,  soberly,  "  when  it 's  very  well 
known  that  they  have  a  whole  shelf  full  put 
away  already,  why  it  begins  to  look  as  if —  " 
here  she  paused  in  pretended  embarrassment. 

"  Looks  as  if  what,  Lee?  Go  on  !  "  was  the 
general  cry. 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "I 
ain't  sure  myself  that  it 's  proper  for  Liny  Barry 
to  be  workin'  on  this  quilt.  I  've  noticed  the 
Elder  likes  her  singin'  pretty  well  lately,  haven't 
you,  Mis'  Sanford?" 

A  shriek  of  laughter  greeted  this  sally,  and 
the  young  girl  thus  alluded  to  blushed  rosy  red 
and  bent  lower  over  her  needle,  her  mother,  a 
dignified,  matronly  woman,  seeming  not  at  all 
displeased  at  this  form  of  attack,  which  she 
judged  it  best,  however,  not  to  prolong  too  far. 
Turning  to  Mrs.  Castle,  she  said  : 

"  I  put  a  basket  of  doughnuts  under  the  seat 
of  our  buggy  when  we  came  away.  I  don't 
know  whether  Mr.  Castle  took  them  out,  but  I 
meant  him  to." 

21 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


While  Mrs.  Castle  was  expressing  her  grati- 
tude, the  company  at  the  quilt  were  joining  in 
a  chorus  of  praise  of  Mrs.  Barry's  doughnuts, 
which  it  appeared  were  famous  throughout 
Thornton,  and  the  despair  of  all  the  other 
housewives,  who  lamented  that  they  "  could  n't 
give  them  just  the  twist,  and  turn  them  out  just 
so  light  and  soft  and  yellow  as  Drusilly  could." 

Meanwhile,  Stephen  Castle,  whose  doings 
and  sayings  and  preferences  were  directly  or 
indirectly  the  subject  of  most  of  the  conversa- 
tion in  the  parlor,  had  again  laid  aside  his  coat, 
borrowed  a  scythe  of  his  nearest  neighbor,  and 
was  now  hard  at  work  mowing  the  tall  timothy 
in  the  front  yard.  Of  the  women  gathered 
around  the  quilt,  Lina  Barry  alone  had  dis- 
covered this  fact,  and  through  the  half-closed 
shutters  of  one  parlor  window  she  was  enjoying 
all  to  herself  the  sight  of  the  athletic  grace  of 
motion  with  which  the  young  minister  performed 
this  labor,  which  to  her  seemed  so  far  beneath 
him. 

Down  on  his  knees,  Stephen  was  pulling  out 
the  grass  close  to  the  crimson  peonies  which  he 
could  not  cut  with  the  scythe  without  behead- 
ing the  flowers,  when  a  clear  voice  behind  him 
said  : 

22 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  I  should  think  you  would  get  a  lawn- 
mower,  and  try  to  make  it  look  nice  here,  Mr. 
Castle.  It  has  been  dreadful,  the  way  you 
have  let  that  grass  grow." 

Turning  his  head  slightly,  the  young  man 
greeted  the  speaker  by  waving  a  handful  of 
grass  toward  her. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  perhaps,  if  I  do  not 
rise,"  he  said,  briefly.  "  I  am  crushed  by  your 
severity,  Emily." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  not !  "  the  girl  retorted 
gayly.  "You  are  only  trying  to  gain  time  to 
defend  yourself." 

Upon  this,  Stephen  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
turned  full  upon  her. 

"  What  an  absurd  idea,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that 
I  should  try  to  make  a  fashionable,  sheared 
lawn  of  my  old  dooryard  !  I  should  hate  it  if 
it  tried  to  look  like  something  it  could  never 
be.  I  love  this  tall,  waving  timothy,  and  be- 
sides, I  am  too  good  a  farmer  to  waste  so  much 
good  hay  with  Doll  there  in  the  barn  to  eat  it." 

The  girl  before  him  laughed  merrily  at  the 
energy  of  his  defence. 

"  You  got  out  of  it  better  than  I  expected," 
she  returned ;  then  holding  out  her  hands 
which  were  full  of  books,  "  See,"  she  said,  "  I 
23 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


have  brought  your  books  back.  Where  shall  I 
leave  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  why,  in  the  study,  if  you  will,  for 
my  mother  has  cleared  out  the  sitting-room  for 
the  company  tea,  you  know." 

"I  will  find  their  places  on  the  book-shelves, 
if  you  like.  I  think  I  know  where  they  be- 
long." 

"Thanks.     Do  so." 

And  Stephen  again  lifted  his  scythe,  while 
Emily  Merle  passed,  light  of  foot  and  heart, 
into  the  parsonage.  She  was  a  slender  girl, 
with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  not  strikingly  pretty, 
but  noticeable  for  her  bright  and  joyous  look, 
and  the  frank,  spirited  self-reliance  which  was 
conveyed  in  her  voice  and  expression.  There 
was  no  meek  adoring  in  her  eyes  as  they  met 
Stephen  Castle's,  but  rather  a  challenge  which, 
although  playful,  was  sufficient  to  put  him  on 
his  mettle.  Plainly  it  did  not  suit  him  to  have 
this  clear-eyed  young  woman  suspect  him  of 
laziness. 

Entering  the  study  alone,  Emily  hesitated  a 
moment,  yielding  to  an  unconquerable  shyness. 
In  spite  of  herself  this  room  seemed  a  kind  of 
shrine  into  which  she  scarcely  dared  to  enter 
without  its  master.  On  the  writing-table  lay 
24 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


several  broad  sheets  of  manuscript  written  in  a 
bold  handwriting  which  she  recognized.  She 
was  afraid  she  might  read  the  very  words  of  the 
next  Sabbath's  sermon,  and  that  would  have 
seemed  to  her  like  an  almost  profane  intrusion 
upon  holy  things. 

She  crossed  quickly  to  the  book- shelves,  and 
stood  before  them  trying  to  see  the  spaces 
where  the  books  belonged  which  she  had 
brought.  The  room  was  almost  dusky,  the 
grape-vines  grew  so  closely  about  the  open  win- 
dows, with  their  thick,  green  shade,  and  the  air 
was  strangely  sweet.  As  she  stood,  intently 
looking,  she  was  aware  of  the  vine  being  pushed 
aside,  and  Stephen  Castle's  face  appeared  out- 
side the  window. 

Emily  could  not  control  the  quick  color 
which  rose  in  her  cheeks,  but  without  turning 
her  head  she  said,  quietly  : 

"  I  see  where  the  Saint  Augustine  belongs, 
—  on  the  upper  shelf,  and  the  Martineau, 
here,  of  course,"  and  then  she  hesitated. 

"  Put  the  '  Natural  Law '  down  on  my  desk, 
if  you  will,  I  shall  want  it  to  refer  to.  Did  you 
like  it?  "  Stephen  asked. 

"  Yes,  although  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  all  true. 
But,  do  you  know,  I  think  you  have  marked  it 
25 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


so  oddly?  Some  of  the  parts  which  I  call  weak 
you  have  marked  for  especial  power." 

"  Show  me  one,  please." 

"  I  can't  now.  I  am  going  in  the  other 
room  to  quilt.  That  is  what  I  came  for,  you 
know." 

"  Never  mind  the  quilting.  I  want  you  to 
bring  the  book  over  here  and  let  me  see  what 
you  mean." 

Stephen  Castle  said  these  words  in  a  tone 
which  Emily  found  it  hard  to  resist,  although 
she  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  she  ought 
not  to  be  lingering  in  the  study,  but  in  a  mo- 
ment their  heads  were  bending  together  over 
the  book  which  lay  on  the  window-sill  between 
them,  and  the  sunlight  sifted  down  through  the 
leaves  upon  its  pages,  etching  sharp  shadows 
which  darted  in  endless  motion  beneath  their 
eyes.  Emily's  questionings  were  clear-cut  and 
bright  as  the  glancing  lights  and  shadows,  and 
Stephen  found  keen  enjoyment  in  defending 
and  explaining  to  her  quick  perception  his  own 
and  his  favorite  author's  positions,  while  needle 
and  scythe  were  alike  forgotten. 

In  the  parlor,  where  'the  work  seemed  now 
to  grow  tiresome,  and  the  conversation  dull, 
Lina  Barry  looked  in  vain  from  the  window  and 
26 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


wondered  why  the  mower  had  so  suddenly  van- 
ished, and  whether  he  would  not  return.  She 
had  not  seen  Emily  Merle  when  she  came  up 
the  walk,  nor  heard  her  voice".  Emily  Merle 
was  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman  who  had  been 
pastor  of  the  Thornton  Church  for  years,  and 
who  had  now  retired  from  the  active  work  of 
the  ministry  by  reason  of  bodily  infirmity. 
They  lived  in  a  brick  mansion,  rich  with  ivy, 
on  an  estate  just  out  of  the  village  which  had 
been  Mrs.  Merle's  inheritance.  As  Emily  was 
the  only  child,  her  education  had  been  the  con- 
stant study  of  her  parents,  and  she  had,  under 
her  father's  teaching,  become  a  fine  scholar  in 
classic  as  well  as  in  modern  studies.  Her  vigor- 
ous intellect  and  comprehension,  however,  were 
united  to  a  peculiarly  sympathetic  nature,  and 
thus  her  culture  and  position  never  became  a 
barrier  between  her  and  the  people  among 
whom  she  lived.  She  mingled  freely  with 
them  with  no  sense  of  superiority;  in  every 
home,  however  humble,  in  Thornton  she  was  a 
welcome  guest. 

Stephen  Castle,  coming  to  the   place    as   a 
stranger,  had  found  in  Emily  Merle  an  invalu- 
able ally.     Clear  and  impartial  in  her  percep- 
tions, she  was  able  to  give  the  young  pastor  a 
27 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


co-operation  which  he  could  find  nowhere  else. 
They  had  become  close  friends  and  fellow- 
workers,  but  the  relation  between  them  was  of 
frank  comradeship,  untouched,  apparently,  by 
sentiment. 


28 


III. 

I  watch  thy  grace  ;  and  in  its  place 
My  heart  a  charm'd  slumber  keeps, 

While  I  muse  upon  thy  face, 
And  a  languid  fire  creeps 
Thro'  my  veins  to  all  my  frame, 
Dissolvingly  and  slowly. 

TENNYSON. 

GUESS  there  's  goin'  to  be  a  good 
turnout  to-day."  It  was  Mrs.  Wes- 
cott,  better  known  in  Thornton  as 
"Lecty,"  who  spoke  in  a  loud  whisper,  turning 
at  right  angles  in  her  pew  to  speak  to  Mrs. 
Barry  in  the  seat  behind  her. 

It  was  the  first  Sunday  in  July,  a  few  weeks 
after  Mrs.  Castle's  quilting  party,  and  nearly 
time  for  the  morning  service  to  begin.  The 
interior  of  the  little  church  was  bare  and  dull, 
but  it  was  scrupulously  clean,  and  the  dark- 
green  blinds,  closed  behind  the  tall,  uncolored 
windows,  softened  the  light,  while  they  per- 
mitted spots  and  bars  of  sunshine  to  strike 
through  here  and  there.  Behind  the  pulpit  on 
the  gray  wall  a  group  of  fluted  pillars  was 
painted  in  fresco,  the  painter  intending  to  con- 
29 


A  Minister  of  tbe  World 


vey  to  the  congregation  the  illusion  that  an 
alcove  extended  backward  at  that  point;  but 
the  perspective  was  such  that  no  child  was  ever 
known  to  be  deceived.  Counting  and  com- 
paring those  painted  pillars,  however,  was  the 
prime  employment  of  the  Thornton  children  of 
tender  years  during  the  hours  of  service,  and 
they  thus  served  a  purpose,  if  not  that  enter- 
tained by  their  designer.  There  was  a  black 
haircloth  sofa  in  front  of  the  pillars ;  behind 
the  mahogany  pulpit  and  at  one  side  stood  a 
small  unsteady  table,  on  which  this  morning 
had  been  placed  a  painted  glass  vase  of 
"hundred-leaf"  roses.  At  the  opposite  end 
of  the  church,  in  a  high  gallery,  behind  a 
railing  and  a  green  curtain,  were  the  singers' 
seats  and  the  organ. 

The  congregation  did  not  increase  rapidly, 
nor  even  very  perceptibly,  but  one  after  another 
small  groups  of  women  and  children  and  young 
girls  came  quietly  in  and  took  their  seats, 
while  at  intervals,  after  each  group,  a  sun- 
burned man  or  boy  would  slip  into  the  end  of 
the  pew  beside  his  "women  folks,"  having 
disposed  of  his  horses,  and  had  his  Sunday 
morning  chat  with  his  neighbors  under  the 
meeting-house  sheds. 

30 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


The  young  girls  were  in  most  cases  dressed 
in  white,  with  a  liberal  use  of  blue  and  pink 
ribbons.  Their  faces  wore  a  look  of  shyness, 
amounting  nearly  to  an  absence  of  expression. 
The  older  women  occasionally  smiled  and 
nodded  to  those  who  sat  near  them,  and  a  few 
were  chatting  in  whispers,  but  there  was,  on  the 
whole,  a  sober  silence  throughout  the  room. 
On  the  table  below  the  pulpit  a  bar  of  sunlight 
touched  to  an  almost  mystic  splendor  the  silver 
vessels  and  the  snow-white  linen  of  the  com- 
munion feast  which  was  this  morning  spread 
before  the  people.  Seeing  this,  a  more  impres- 
sible person  here  and  there  sat  with  head 
slightly  bent,  but  the  greater  part  abstained 
from  even  this  degree  of  expression.  Emily 
Merle,  in  a  shaded  corner,  had  bowed  her  head 
upon  her  hand  as  soon  as  she  took  her  seat, 
the  simple,  restrained  expressiveness  of  her 
attitude  suggesting  a  quality  of  devotion  rarely 
high  and  pure.  Her  father,  a  white-haired, 
venerable  man,  sat  beside  her  with  closed  eyes 
and  with  a  devout  expression  upon  his  face. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  congregation  gradually 
increased,  Lecty  continued  her  whispered  obser- 
vations, saying  now :  — 

"  Hayin  's  over  and   harvestin'  hain't  begun 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


yet,  and  there  isn't  anything  to  keep  folks 
from  comin'  to  meetin'  if  they  wanted  to." 

"  That 's  so,"  returned  Mrs.  Barry ;  "  by  next 
Sunday  the  men  '11  say  the  horses  have  got  to 
rest.  The  wheat 's  ripe  already  down  in  our 
south  lot,  and  Amasa  says  he  shall  begin  cuttin' 
there  to-morrow  mornin',  and  after  that,  you 
know,  there  won't  be  much  let-up,  not  till  the 
wheat 's  all  in."  Then,  suddenly  interrupting 
herself,  she  touched  Lecty's  hand,  which  hung 
over  the  back  of  the  seat,  and  which  held  a 
sprig  of  fennel,  and  whispered  with  lively  inter- 
est, "  Say,  Lee,  who  's  that?  " 

Both  women  were  looking  now  at  a  small 
company  of  people  who  were  passing  up  the 
central  aisle  —  a  man  and  two  ladies,  one  of 
whom  was  leading  a  child. 

"Why,  that's  Lorenzo  Deering,"  whispered 
Lecty  promptly,  "  and  that 's  his  wife,  her  with 
the  young  one.  She  's  a  second  wife  ;  his  first 
wife  was  a  Cutter,  don't  you  remember?  They 
live  in  that  big  brown  house  on  the  pike, 
most  to  Pembroke,  and  they  don't  very 
often  go  anywheres  to  meetin',  I  guess,  but 
I  've  seen  him  here  once  or  twice  evenin's 
this  spring.  Guess  he  likes  to  hear  Elder 
Castle  preach." 

32 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  But  who  is  with  them,  that  other  one  ? " 
questioned    Mrs.   Barry. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Lecty  confessed  reluctantly, 
adding,  "  Hush  !  there  's  the  minister  !  " 

The  small  organ  was  piping  shrilly  as  Stephen 
Castle  walked  up  the  aisle,  ascended  the  plat- 
form and  seated  himself  behind  the  pulpit. 
Every  eye  was  upon  him,  and  a  sudden  hush 
seemed  to  fall  upon  the  people  as  he  bowed 
his  head  and  so  sat  before  them  in  silent  prayer. 
However  boyish  and  merry  he  might  be  in  his 
every-day  mood,  however  free  and  accessible 
in  his  ministrations  to  the  Thornton  people  as 
their  pastor,  Stephen  Castle  was  always  regarded 
by  them  with  reverence,  as  one  distinctly  above 
and  beyond  themselves.  To  hold  ordinary  con- 
versation with  him  on  the  Sabbath  day  was 
never  thought  of.  It  was  his  habit  to  spend 
the  early  hours  of  the  day  alone  in  his  study, 
from  which  he  came  into  the  pulpit  with  a  high 
and  solemn  aspect,  as  of  one  who  had  seen 
that  which  is  invisible.  Most  marked  was  his 
rapt  and  self- forgetting  look  at  the  communion 
season,  when  he  seemed  in  a  peculiar  degree  to 
feel  the  weight  of  desire  for  the  souls  intrusted  to 
him,  and  all  the  people,  seeing  him,  felt,  if  they 
did  not  speak  it,  "  He  has  been  praying  for  us." 
33 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


The  choir  now  led  the  people  in  the 
Doxology,  Lina  Barry's  sweet,  almost  childish 
voice,  floating  clear  and  high  above  them  all 
from  her  place  in  the  gallery.  Standing  thus, 
with  Stephen  Castle  across  the  church  in  his 
place  in  the  pulpit,  Lina's  blue  eyes  were  fixed 
on  him,  and  she  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  slight 
change,  a  shade  of  surprise  which  quickly 
passed  over  his  face,  leaving  it  quiet  as  before, 
but  which  made  Lina  look  where  he  had 
looked  —  into  the  pew  where  the  strangers  sat, 
whose  coming  had  been  a  matter  of  curiosity 
and  interest  to  all  the  congregation,  as  well  as 
to  Lecty  and  Mrs.  Barry. 

The  service  proceeded  with  prayer  and  read- 
ing, and  the  whole-souled,  honest  attempt  to 
sing  unto  the  Lord,  which  makes  the  music 
in  a  country  church  often  half  pathetic.  Not 
a  second  time  did  Stephen  Castle's  glance 
linger  in  the  spot  where  the  Deerings  sat,  but 
wherever  he  turned  his  eyes  that  morning  he 
saw  the  one  face  whose  look  haunted  him 
against  his  will.  Among  all  those  honest, 
homely  faces,  with  their  inflexible  reticence, 
their  brief  range  of  expression,  their  honest  but 
unresponsive  attentiveness,  his  consciousness 
was  thrilled  and  stirred  by  the  sight  of  a  face 
34 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


so  subtly,  so  marvellously  different.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  face  was  very  beautiful,  he  only 
knew  the  strange,  new  sense  of  harmony  that 
it  gave  him,  like  a  perfect  chord  of  music ; 
neither  did  he  understand  the  complexities  and 
refinements  of  feeling  and  perception  which 
gave  that  face  its  play  of  radiant  expression,  its 
swift  changes  and  flashes  of  light  and  shade. 
He  only  knew  that  every  other  face  before  him 
suddenly  became  hard  and  immobile,  as  if  of 
wood  or  stone.  Even  Emily  Merle's  seemed 
strangely  dull  to  him,  and  Lina  Barry's  blue 
eyes  were  as  expressionless  as  the  eyes  of  a 
statue. 

All  this  Stephen  felt  rather  than  thought,  in 
a  succession  of  impressions  which  in  persons  of 
susceptible  imagination  make  much  of  the  stuff 
of  the  mental  life.  Unconsciously  to  himself 
he  was  stimulated  by  the  presence  of  that  face 
before  him  as  by  new  wine,  and  even  those  who 
were  most  ardent  in  their  admiration  of  their 
pastor  confessed  to  each  other  at  the  end  of 
the  service  that  they  "  never  saw  Elder  Castle 
so  much  engaged  as  he  was  this  morning." 

When  the  congregation  broke  up  Stephen, 
contrary  to  his  custom,  remained  for  a  few 
minutes  in  the  pulpit.  He  knew  if  he  mingled, 
35 


A  Minister  of  tbe  World 


as  usual,  with  the  people  that  he  must  greet 
Mr.  Deering,  whom  he  had  met  before,  and 
must  meet  the  face  of  that  stranger ;  and  this, 
for  some  reason,  he  feared  to  do. 

Strangers  were  rarely  seen  in  the  little  church 
at  Thornton,  and  the  people  stood  aside  and 
watched  with  half-averted  but  observant  eyes 
the  two  ladies  who  followed  Mr.  Deering  down 
the  aisle  and  out  from  the  church  to  the  horse- 
block, where  a  man  was  sitting  in  a  handsome 
covered  carriage  holding  a  pair  of  well-groomed 
horses.  Young  Mrs.  Deering  and  her  child 
received  their  share  of  attention,  especially 
from  the  young  mothers  who  were  interested 
in  the  dainty  gown  of  the  little  girl.  It  was  the 
young  lady  who  accompanied  Mrs.  Deering, 
however,  who  was  most  intently  observed,  and 
there  were  some  who,  seeing  her  that  morning 
and  never  seeing  her  again,  could  still,  years 
after,  recall  the  grace  of  her  slender  figure,  the 
exquisite  color  and  texture  of  her  gown,  the 
faint  fragrance  that  passed  by  with  her,  and 
the  brilliant  light  of  her  smile. 

Mrs.  Barry,  upon  whom  none  of  these  things 

were  lost,  turned  back  as  the  door  shut  upon 

the  stranger,  and  looked  at  Lina,  who  had  just 

come  down  from  the  gallery  and  was  standing, 

36 


It  was  the  young  lady  who  was  most  intently  observed. 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


in  her  thick  white  cotton  gown  and  pink 
ribbons,  with  something  of  disapproval  in  her 
eyes.  She  was  a  pretty  girl,  everybody  said  so, 
and  she  had  a  nice,  fair  skin,  but  nothing 
would  ever  make  her  look  like  that,  even  her 
mother  was  admitting.  It  was  just  then  that 
Emily  Merle  came  by  with  an  armful  of  library 
books,  for  it  was  time  for  the  session  of  the 
Sunday-school  to  open  now,  and  with  her  clear, 
untroubled  voice  said,  — 

"  What  a  beautiful  woman  that  was,  Mrs. 
Barry  !  It  was  a  pleasure  to  look  at  her." 

To  which  Mrs.  Barry  replied  with  a  shade  of 
coldness,  — 

"  Why,  do  you  think  so  ?  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  calling  her  beautiful,  —  she 
was  so  dark." 

Emily  Merle  made  no  reply. 


37 


IV. 


All  may  of  thee  partake ; 
Nothing  can  be  so  mean, 
Which  with  this  tincture  (for  thy  sake) 
Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean. 

This  is  the  famous  stone 
That  turneth  all  to  gold ; 
For  that  which  God  doth  touch  and  own 
Cannot  for  less  be  told. 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

N  the  Wednesday  following,  Stephen 
Castle  was  driving  his  bay  mare  Doll, 
between  nine  and  ten  in  the  morning, 
along  the  turnpike  road,  or  the  old  stage  road 
as  it  was  often  called,  between  Thornton  and 
Pembroke.  Beside  him  in  his  single  carriage 
sat  Mrs.  Castle  in  her  best  gown,  with  a  look  of 
lively  but  restrained  interest  on  her  face. 

The  morning  was  breathless  with  heat  already, 
and  the  dust  from  their  wheels  settled  heavily 
upon  the  tangled  weeds  and  brambles  by  the 
roadside.  The  pine  and  spruce  trees  exhaled 
a  pungent  fragrance  under  the  keen  July  sun, 
and  on  the  more  distant  hills  shaded  to  almost 
38 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


a  bluish  black  in  its  early  light.  It  was  mid- 
summer day. 

"  It 's  going  to  be  a  pretty  hot  day  for  a  wed- 
ding, Stephen.  Look  how  Doll  feels  the  heat 
already,"  remarked  Mrs.  Castle. 

"The  warmest  day  yet,  I  think,"  Stephen 
replied  in  a  tone  which  said  plainly  that  the 
weather  did  not  interest  him  vividly.  His  face 
wore  an  abstracted  expression,  which  his  mother 
perceived,  and  so  kept  silence  for  some  mo- 
ments. Whether  it  was  the  close  sympathy 
between  them  which  made  the  same  thoughts 
common  to  both  without  words,  or  whether  it 
was  accident,  when  Mrs.  Castle  spoke  again  she 
touched  the  subject  of  Stephen's  innermost 
thought. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  after  they  had  driven 
a  mile  in  silence,  "  whether  the  Deerings  won't 
most  likely  come  to  Sarah's  wedding  ?  I  should 
most  think  they  would,  George  Allen  being  their 
tenant  for  so  many  years.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"Very  likely  they  may  be  there,"  Stephen 
replied ;  and  again  they  rode  on  in  silence  until 
they  came  in  sight  of  a  low,  brown  farmhouse 
near  the  road,  with  an  orchard  on  one  side  and 
a  smooth,  green  yard  on  the  other,  sloping  down 
to  a  vegetable  garden.  Contrary  to  custom, 
39 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


the  front  door  of  the  house  was  in  use  to-day 
and  stood  open,  showing  that  an  event  of  im- 
portance was  to  take  place;  and  accordingly 
Stephen  drove  up  to  the  front  steps,  instead  of 
to  the  kitchen  door,  as  was  his  habit  when 
making  pastoral  calls.  George  Allen,  the  father 
of  the  girl  whose  wedding  day  it  was,  stood  in 
his  shirt-sleeves  ready  to  greet  them  and  to  take 
the  horse  around  to  the  barn,  and  Stephen, 
after  a  moment's  delay,  followed  his  mother 
into  the  house.  The  small  entry  had  a  close 
smell  of  new  oilcloth,  and  contained  no  furniture 
beyond  an  oblong,  leaved  table  covered  by  a 
red  and  black  printed  cloth.  On  the  table 
stood  a  crimson  fuchsia  in  full  blossom. 

Stephen  laid  his  straw  hat  on  the  table  and 
went  into  the  square  room  at  the  left,  called 
the  parlor,  which  was  full  of  heavy  odors  of 
flowers,  and  closely  shut  and  shaded  as  if  for  a 
funeral.  The  room  was  of  moderate  size,  and 
contained,  besides  a  few  chairs  and  tables,  a 
new  melodeon  and  a  polished  sheet-iron  stove, 
which  was  freely  decorated  with  branches  of 
asparagus.  The  carpet  was  in  violently  con- 
trasting shades  of  red  and  green,  and  felt  rough 
and  uneven  to  the  feet  by  reason  of  its  under- 
lining of  hay. 

40 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


When  Stephen  entered  the  room,  there  were 
ten  or  twelve  women  standing  about  its  outside 
limits,  with  all  of  whom  he  shook  hands,  and 
then,  withdrawing  to  a  corner  behind  a  small 
table,  he  stood  silent,  a  small,  morocco-bound 
book  in  one  hand.  His  look  and  attitude 
plainly  indicated  his  disinclination  to  the  small 
talk  with  which  the  women  were  trying  to  fill 
up  the  time  of  waiting,  and  respecting  his 
wishes  and  standing  in  especial  awe  of  him  as 
probably  passing  through  mysterious  mental 
conditions  appropriate  to  the  discharge  of  high 
official  function,  they  left  him  to  himself. 

Very  soon  there  was  a  flutter  in  the  little 
entry,  and  Mrs.  Allen,  in  a  tidy  gown  with  a 
little  lace  about  her  throat  and  a  bit  of  pink 
geranium  in  her  bosom,  ushered  into  the  parlor 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deering,  accompanied  by  the 
lady  who  had  been  with  them  at  church  on 
Sunday  morning.  At  the  door  Mr.  Deering 
was  pausing  to  introduce  his  wife's  friend  to 
Mrs.  Allen,  with  a  laughing  apology  for  bring- 
ing a  stranger  to  Miss  Sarah's  wedding. 

"Miss  Loring "  (Stephen  heard  her  name 
called)  "  from  New  York."  He  heard  her 
voice,  and  saw  her  smile  and  move  across  the 
room,  as  he  stood  apparently  indifferent  to  all 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


that  passed,  not  lifting  his  eyelids  nor  changing 
his  posture,  except  to  fold  his  arms  across  his 
chest,  with  the  little  book  still  in  his  hand. 

The  moments  passed.  The  men  who  had 
accompanied  their  wives  from  distant  farms 
showed  a  marked  disinclination  to  appear  in 
the  parlor,  and  persistently  clung  to  the  refuge 
of  some  apple-trees  near  the  barn,  biting  bits  of 
grass  and  uneasily  trying  to  be  at  ease.  For  a 
length  of  time,  which  began  to  grow  appalling, 
it  seemed  almost  certain  that  these  wedding 
guests  would  not  consent  to  witness  the  cere- 
mony ;  and  great  was  the  anxiety  of  their  wives, 
who  now  confided  to  each  other,  with  little 
bursts  of  nervous  laughter,  that  "  the  men  were 
always  just  so,"  and  that  "  it  would  serve  them 
right  if  they  got  left  altogether." 

One  by  one,  however,  with  no  evidence  of 
haste,  but  with  an  air  of  reluctance  well  cal- 
culated to  deceive  a  denizen  of  the  outer  world, 
the  husbands  dropped  into  the  parlor,  and 
stood  with  their  heavy  brown  hands  variously 
but  always  uneasily  disposed,  and  their  rough- 
ened heads  bent  at  different  angles. 

The  situation  became  more  and  more  awk- 
ward; and  Stephen  Castle,  as  he  stood  apart, 
frowned  and  bit  his  lip  in  the  vexation  of  it, 
42 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


for  still  the  bridal  party  tarried.  Twenty-five 
people  were  now  standing  together  under  cir- 
cumstances which  hardly  admitted  of  conversa- 
tion, and  where  every  one  felt,  none  the  less, 
that  complete  silence  was  the  one  calamity 
which  might  not  be  endured.  The  moments 
passed  painfully.  The  time  before  the  men 
had  joined  the  company  now  seemed  incredibly 
distant  and  remote,  and  each  woman  in  her 
heart  justified  her  husband's  superior  wisdom 
which  had  made  him  delay  in  yielding  himself 
a  captive  to  these  four  walls  before  the  time. 

Mrs.  Castle,  imbued  with  the  idea  that  it  was 
her  duty,  as  she  would  have  said  herself,  "  to 
sow  beside  all  waters,"  could  now  be  heard  dis- 
tinctly in  the  growing  stillness  addressing  a  pale 
little  woman  in  black  who  stood  nearest  her  in 
phrases  which,  although  conversational,  were 
obviously  didactic ;  and  death  and  the  grave 
were  frequently  mentioned,  to  the  dismay  of 
Miss  Loring,  who  stood  in  the  shelter  of  the 
melodeon  only  a  few  feet  distant. 

"Why  should  he  have  been  taken?"  Mrs. 
Castle  was  now  asking  gently  but  quite  firmly 
of  her  neighbor,  "  I  asked  my  husband  as  we 
rode  home  from  the  grave."  The  little  woman 
murmured  an  inarticulate  but  appreciative  re- 
43 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


sponse,  and  at  that  moment  a  woman  who  stood 
at  the  other  end  of  the  melodeon  from  Miss 
Loring  was  heard  to  say  with  cheerful  emphasis 
that  she  "didn't  know  whether  that  child 
would  live  to  outgrow  them  fits  or  not." 

Miss  Loring  felt  a  wild  desire  to  scream  at 
the  top  of  her  voice,  but  restrained  herself;  and 
Mrs.  Castle  could  now  be  heard  leading  her 
submissive  hearer  up  through  successive  stages 
of  resignation  to  a  position  which  seemed  to 
imply  a  decided  preference  that  Stephen's 
infant  brother  had  been  taken  out  of  this 
present  evil  world.  Anything  from  her  after 
this  would  have  been  an  anti-climax.  Plainly 
this  line  of  argument  ought  to  have  lasted  until 
the  appearance  of  the  bridal  party ;  but  still 
they  did  not  come,  although  the  ceremony  had 
been  appointed  for  ten  o'clock,  and  it  was  al- 
ready ten  minutes  later.  No  one  dared  now 
to  speak  for  fear  of  being  in  the  midst  of  an 
inappropriate  sentence  when  the  eventful  mo- 
ment should  come,  and  every  one  in  the  room 
was  occupied  with  avoiding  the  eye  of  every 
other  person,  —  the  men  on  general  principles, 
the  women  for  fear  they  should  be  betrayed 
into  hysterical  laughter,  —  when  suddenly  a 
broad-shouldered,  sunburned  young  fellow, 
44 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


with  a  rosy-cheeked  girl  on  his  arm,  in  a  light 
gray  gown  and  neatly  braided  hair,  appeared  in 
the  doorway,  and  stepped  rather  rapidly  across 
the  room  to  the  appointed  corner  where  Stephen 
Castle  had  been  standing  so  long. 

Looking  with  searching  directness  into  their 
anxious  young  faces,  Stephen  spoke ;  and  in- 
stantly all  the  nervous  tension  of  the  moment, 
all  its  grotesque  blending  of  the  funereal  with 
the  festive  quality,  was  dispelled.  His  voice 
was  full  and  deep,  and  vibrated  with  a  tender 
authority  which  seemed  to  transform  those  two 
commonplace-looking  persons  into  children  of 
God  exalted  by  His  grace  to  highest  privilege. 
The  room  became  a  sacred  place,  and  those 
two  were  brought  face  to  face  with  God.  When 
the  final  words  of  blessing  were  spoken,  Miss 
Loring,  lifting  her  eyes  and  seeing  the  white, 
strained  face  of  the  girl's  mother  as  she  turned 
to  her  child,  and  the  emotion  on  the  two  young 
faces,  could  not  restrain  her  tears,  and  they 
were  still  wet  upon  her  lashes  when  some  one 
beside  her  spoke  a  word  of  introduction,  and 
Stephen  Castle,  with  the  seriousness  of  his  office 
still  upon  him,  took  her  hand  and  spoke  to  her 
with  grave  courtesy. 

45 


V. 

The  encounter  of  the  wise,  — 

Say,  what  other  metre  is  it 

Than  the  meeting  of  the  eyes  ? 

Nature  poureth  into  Nature 

Through  the  channels  of  that  feature, 

Riding  on  the  ray  of  sight, 

Fleeter  far  than  whirlwinds  go, 

Or  for  service  or  delight, 

Hearts  to  hearts  their  meaning  show, 

Sum  their  long  experience, 

And  impart  intelligence. 

Single  look  has  drained  the  breast, 

Single  moment  years  confessed. 

EMERSON. 

UST  how  it  happened  Stephen  did  not 
clearly  understand  at  the  time,  al- 
though afterward  it  became  suffi- 
ciently plain  to  him,  but  a  few  minutes  later  he 
found  himself  standing  in  the  green  seclusion 
of  the  old  orchard  at  the  north  side  of  the 
farmhouse,  leaning  against  a  stout-limbed  apple- 
tree,  while  Miss  Loring  sat  before  him  in  a 
hammock,  which  had  been  stretched  there  by 
the  young  people  whom  they  had  just  left  in 
the  close  parlor. 

46 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  How  good  it  is  to  be  in  the  air,"  she  said 
gently. 

Stephen  nodded  without  speaking.  He  was 
stirred  by  the  emotions  of  the  last  half-hour, 
and  confused  by  his  nearness  to  this  beautiful 
woman.  He  recognized  fully  now  that  she  was 
beautiful,  with  her  gray  eyes  under  long  dark 
lashes,  her  face  set  like  a  flower  upon  the  round 
white  throat,  and  the  wonderful  ripple  and  glint 
of  her  bright  brown  hair,  which  curled  off 
delicately  from  her  temples.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  contour  of  her  head  and  in  the 
poise  of  it  which  vaguely  recalled  to  him  classic 
heads  of  fair  Greek  women.  Her  throat  was 
bare  to  a  point  below  its  soft  white  hollow,  and 
the  round  arms  from  the  elbow  down.  Stephen 
had  never  seen  women  who  wore  their  gowns 
in  this  fashion,  and  it  gave  him  a  shamefaced 
unwillingness  to  look  at  her.  She  was  dressed 
in  cream-white  stuff,  thin  and  soft,  with  lines 
of  yellow  in  it  here  and  there,  but  without  frills 
or  furbelows,  and  she  wore  no  jewels.  The 
outline  of  her  head  and  waist,  as  she  sat  in  the 
hammock,  was  girlish ;  and  yet  Stephen  was 
sure  that  she  was  not  very  young,  perhaps  not 
younger  than  himself. 

As  he  did  not  speak,  she  began  again;  this 
47 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


time  her  look  seemed  to  compel-  him  to  lift  his 
eyes  and  to  meet  hers. 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  she  said  timidly,  "  how 
very  wonderful  it  was,  what  you  did  there  in 
that  marriage  ceremony.  I  never  felt  myself 
in  such  an  absurd  position  in  my  life  ;  it  all 
seemed  perfectly  droll  and  dreadful  to  me  at 
the  beginning.  I  was  wondering  if  they  were 
going  to  bring  in  a  dead  person  every  minute* 
all  the  talk  was  so  grewsome  and  dismal ;  and 
when  that  poor  frightened  fellow  appeared  with 
his  great  hands  in  those  ghastly  white  gloves,  it 
was  worse  than  ever.  I  felt  as  if  I  should  dis- 
grace myself  by  some  outburst ;  but  the  moment 
you  spoke  the  situation  was  completely  altered, 
redeemed,  don't  you  know?  It  all  became 
noble  and  beautiful,  and  I  never  in  my  life  felt 
what  such  things  meant  as  I  did  while  you  were 
speaking.  Please  do  not  mind  my  telling  you  ; 
I  almost  felt  that  I  ought,  you  see." 

She  spoke  beseechingly,  for  Stephen  had 
lowered  his  eyes  again ;  her  words  seemed  to 
beat  them  down,  and  his  face  was  very  grave. 
A  strange  tumult  was  going  on  within  the  young 
man's  mind,  awakened  by  her  words  not  less 
than  by  her  presence.  He  saw  the  scene  they 
had  left  through  her  eyes  suddenly,  as  he  could 
48 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


never  have  seen  it  before,  in  all  its  grotesque- 
ness,  and  he  was  angry  with  her  for  making 
him  see  it,  angry  that  his  world  was  so  far  apart 
from  hers.  Closely  mingled  with  this  feeling 
was  a  strange,  exciting  perception  that  in  the 
real  nature  of  things  it  was  to  her  world  that  he 
belonged.  Her  grace  and  charm,  her  subtle 
sympathy,  her  swift  perception  of  the  good  in 
what  he  said,  were  what  he  craved,  were  what 
belonged  to  him.  No  one  else  had  ever  given 
all  this  to  him.  Emily  Merle  was  bright  and 
clear-headed,  and  she  was  his  good  comrade, 
but  she  never  hesitated  to  point  out  his  mis- 
takes, and  criticise  his  opinions.  He  thought 
of  her  now  for  an  instant,  with  a  faint  sense  of 
indignation,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  at  last,  and 
by  an  odd  little  accident  caught  sight  of  a 
name  embroidered  in  delicate  tracery  on  the 
handkerchief  which  lay  in  Miss  Loring's  lap. 
Then  all  thought  of  Emily  was  forgotten  in  the 
surprise  with  which-  he  read  the  name,  "  Steph- 
anie." It  was  a  new  name  to  him.  How 
strange  that  her  name  should  be  the  counter- 
part of  his  own  !  Was  there  not  a  meaning  in 
it?  A  sudden  flash  of  intelligence  passed  be- 
tween their  eyes  as  his  were  lifted  from  the 
handkerchief,  and  Stephen  colored  deeply. 
49 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  I  wonder  if  you  know  that  my  name  is 
Stephen,"  he  said  simply. 

"  Yes,"  she  returned;  "  how  very  strange  it  is. 
We  ought  to  be  good  friends.  There  ought  to 
be,  do  you  not  think  so,  a  kind  of  invisible 
affinity  between  us?" 

"  I  believe  there  is,"  Stephen  answered 
soberly,  seeking  to  hide  a  strange,  intoxicating 
sense  of  exultation  which  seemed  mounting 
hotly  to  his  brain. 

And  yet,  as  he  followed  Stephanie  Loring 
under  the  orchard  boughs  into  the  farmhouse, 
whither  they  were  now  called  to  the  wedding 
feast,  there  was  beneath  the  excitement  of  the 
moment  a  perception,  not  fully  clear  as  yet  to 
his  own  consciousness,  that  it  was  less  to  her 
that  he  owed  this  affinity  of  which  they  had 
spoken  than  to  what  she  stood  for,  —  the  un- 
known world  of  beauty  and  art  and  human  per- 
fection to  which  she  belonged. 

In  the  week  which  followed  the  wedding 
Stephen  Castle  spent  many  hours  at  the  Deer- 
ings',  having  been  invited  to  call  by  Mrs. 
Deering  when  they  met  after  the  marriage.  He 
found  great  enjoyment  in  the  hospitable  house, 
where  he  was  welcomed  with  unfeigned  cor- 
diality whenever  he  presented  himself,  and 
5° 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


given  the  freedom  of  the  pleasant  rooms  and 
grounds. 

Stephanie  Loring  remained  with  the  Deer- 
ings  throughout  another  week,  and  Stephen 
always  found  himself  her  guest  in  particular. 
She  played  and  sang  to  him  as  he  sat  in  the 
great  music-room,  and  opened  to  his  possession 
a  new  realm,  for  he  had  never  until  now  heard 
good  music.  At  other  times  they  sat  under 
the  oak-trees  near  the  house  ;  and  while  she  was 
busy  with  some  dainty  handiwork,  he  read  aloud 
from  books  which  he  loved,  and  which  she 
received  with  quick  insight  and  responsive 
sympathy. 

Then  there  were  long,  quiet  talks  in  the 
evenings  on  the  piazza,  which  some  way  always 
turned  at  last  upon  the  church  to  which  Steph- 
anie belonged  in  New  York  :  how  it  was  with- 
out a  pastor;  how  sadly  it  needed  just  the 
right  man ;  how  she  wished  —  but  here  she 
always  interrupted  herself  or  was  interrupted 
by  Stephen. 

Stephen  would  drive  home  in  the  darkness 
or  in  the  starlight  after  these  long  visits,  which 
for  the  time  absorbed  his  days,  with  his 
thoughts  in  a  riot.  What  was  coming  to  him? 
Could  it  be  that  he  did  not  belong,  after  all,  to 

51 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


the  Thornton  parish  and  to  the  people  who 
loved  him  so  tenderly?  Was  it  disloyalty  to 
let  his  mind  dwell  on  these  new  possibilities? 
Surely  other  men  left  their  churches.  Might  it 
not  be  that  another  man  could  reach  the  hearts 
of  these  people  better  than  he?  How  rarely 
was  a  word  said  to  show  that  his  sermons  had 
made  even  the  slightest  impression  !  Stephanie 
Loring  discussed  them  freely  with  him  ;  noticed 
all  the  fine  points,  the  impressive  passages  ;  and 
Stephen  found  her  appreciation  very  sweet. 
How  would  it  be  to  live  among  people  like 
her,  —  quick  to  perceive  his  best,  gracious  and 
delicate  in  their  recognition  of  his  work?  How 
would  it  be  to  be  in  a  position  of  influence,  — 
not  to  be  a  country  pastor  any  more  ?  What 
would  the  fellows  say  if  such  a  thing  ever  did 
happen?  What  would  Dr.  Endicott  of  the 
Divinity  School  say?  Stephen  had  always  felt, 
with  a  mingled  humility  and  resentment,  that 
the  old  Doctor  did  not  rate  his  ability  very 
high.  It  would  not  be  altogether  distasteful  to 
him  to  make  the  Doctor  open  his  eyes !  Thus 
his  thoughts,  earnest  or  idle,  would  cross  each 
other  in  endless  motion  like  waves  of  the  sea, 
as  he  drove  along  the  silent  roads,  through  the 
sweetness  of  the  clover-fields  wet  with  dew. 
52 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


But  it  often  happened  that  when  he  turned 
down  the  hill  above  the  little  white  church,  and 
saw  it  lying  there  under  the  quiet  sky,  with  the 
parsonage  in  the  grassy  yard  beyond,  all  these 
thoughts  would  yield  to  a  yearning  tenderness 
for  the  simple  place,  and  the  simple  people 
who  so  faithfully  loved  him  and  so  patiently 
allowed  themselves  to  be  led  by  him. 

When  August  came,  the  excitement  was  over ; 
for  Stephanie  Loring,  having  prolonged  her 
visit  to  her  old  friend  far  beyond  its  first  limits, 
had  taken  her  departure  to  join  her  family  at 
Newport  for  the  remainder  of  the  season. 
When  she  parted  from  Stephen,  she  had  looked 
straight  into  his  eyes,  and  had  said  significantly  : 

"  I  shall  see  you  again.  This  is  not  where 
you  belong,  but  I  must  not  say  any  more.  You 
will  understand." 


53 


VI. 


Deep  in  the  man  sits  fast  his  fate 
To  mould  his  fortunes  mean  or  great ; 
Unknown  to  Cromwell  as  to  me 
Was  Cromwell's  measure  or  degree. 

EMERSON. 

TEPHEN  went  back  from  the  charmed 
life  he  had  been  leading  to  the  un- 
eventful days  in  the  parsonage  with 
his  mother,  and  to  his  intercourse  with  the 
farmers  and  their  families.  He  was  not  the 
same,  and,  with  honest  pain  in  his  heart,  he  saw 
that  he  could  never  be  the  same  again.  He  felt  a 
weariness  and  distaste  for  the  people  about  him. 
And  yet  he  strove  earnestly  to  come  back  into 
harmony  with  his  people  and  his  work,  and 
sometimes  he  fancied  he  was  succeeding. 

It  was  Emily  Merle  who  showed  him  that 
this  was  a  delusion,  as  he  strolled  home  with 
her  from  the  Wednesday  evening  prayer- 
meeting. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  your  fortune,  Mr. 
Castle?"  she  asked,  half  laughingly,  half  sadly. 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Yes,  Emily ;  I  wish  somebody  was  wise 
enough  to  do  it.  It  is  very  dim  to  me  just 
now." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  in  the  confusion  of 
a  great  change  coming,  I  think,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  which  was  cheerful  but  not  steady.  "  That 
lovely  lady  at  the  Deerings'  was  a  new  star  in 
your  sky,  and  she  is  bringing  great  changes  to 
you,  and  in  you  as  well.  Perhaps  others  do 
not  see  it,  but  it  is  quite  clear  to  me." 

"  How  do  you  mean?  I  do  not  understand," 
Stephen  protested  uneasily. 

"  You  are  not  for  us  any  more.  You  are  for 
her,  and  she  will  draw  you  to  her." 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  love  her,  Emily?" 
Stephen  spoke  abruptly,  as  if  it  were  a  relief  to 
him  to  touch  the  subject. 

"I  do  not  know,"  Emily  replied.  "There 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not.  I  know  she 
must  attract  you  strongly,  and  that  she  will  in- 
fluence your  life  always.  Perhaps  you  love  her, 
I  cannot  tell." 

"  She  is  like  a  wonderful  new  book  to  me," 
Stephen  confessed.  "She  fascinates  me,  and 
yet  she  does  not  touch  my  heart.  She  is  too 
fine  for  me,  Emily.  She  would  never  look  at  a 
country  boy  like  me.  You  are  my  best  friend, 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


my  sister  in  a  way,  dear  Emily.     I  can  talk  to 
you  even  of  this." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  changed  you 
have  become  since  Miss  Loring  came  here?" 
Emily  continued.  "You  are  tired  of  us  all; 
our  ways  and  our  doings  are  stale,  flat,  and  un- 
profitable. Sometimes  I  think  I  understand 
just  how  dull  and  dreary  it  seems ;  we  all  say 
the  things  we  have  always  said  in  meeting,  and 
no  one  is  bright  and  clever  like  Miss  Loring. 
I  saw  how  you  felt  to-night  when  Mrs.  Wescott 
said  she  '  felt  like  settin'  her  stakes  and  startin' 
out  anew,'  and  when  Jacob  Poole  said,  as  he 
always  does,  that  he  knew  he  '  was  n't  anything 
but  a  poor  failable  worm  of  the  dust.'  " 

"What  did  you  see  ?  "  asked  Stephen,  surprised. 

"  How  all  these  things,  which  you  used  to 
smile  over  a  little,  but  in  a  tender  kind  of  way, 
as  the  poor  attempts  of  those  whom  you  truly 
cared  for,  vex  you  now;  make  you  impatient 
even,  I  think  ;  give  you  a  feeling  of  humiliation 
that  the  people  to  whom  you  belong  are  so 
rude  and  uneducated,  and  all  that." 

Stephen  did  not  reply.     With  her  usual  clear 
vision    Emily   had    seen    into    his    innermost 
thought.     He  was   ashamed,  but   he   was   too 
honest  to  deny  the  truth  of  what  she  said. 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


After  a  short  silence  —  they  had  reached 
her  gate  by  this  time  —  Emily  said  in  a  voice 
which  was  quite  steady  now,  — 

"When  you  go  away,  for  you  will  before 
very  long,  —  you  know  I  have  the  gift  of 
second  sight  sometimes,  —  I  shall  be  glad  in  a 
certain  way  for  you,  Mr.  Castle." 

"Call  me  Stephen,  if  you  will,  Emily,"  he 
interrupted  her  gently,  "  when  we  are  by  our- 
selves, at  least." 

With  no  touch  of  coquetry  Emily  accepted  the 
suggestion  in  a  quiet,  natural  way,  and  went  on  : 

"  As  I  was  saying,  I  shall  be  glad,  Stephen, 
although  the  difference  to  us  here  in  Thornton 
will  be  very  hard  to  bear.  But  the  change  for 
you  is  simply  in  the  natural  order  for  a  man  of 
your  gifts  and  tastes.  I  should  think  the  only 
thing  to  fear  might  be  that  gifts  and  tastes 
would,  perhaps,  rule  the  day  in  the  new  life, 
not  the  old  convictions  and  motives,  —  those, 
you  know,  which  make  all  souls  of  equal  worth 
to  us,  as  I  suppose  they  must  be  before  God." 

Emily  faltered  a  little,  and  spoke  timidly. 
But  he  had  scarcely  noticed  her  last  words, 
so  surprised  was  he  with  the  manner  in  which 
she  took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  to  leave 
Thornton. 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


They  parted  a  moment  later,  and  Stephen 
sat  for  hours  in  his  study  that  evening  ponder- 
ing upon  all  these  things,  and  also  upon  a  letter 
from  Stephanie  Loring  which  the  evening  mail 
had  brought  him,  and  which  had  kept  her 
before  him  all  through  the  meeting  by  its  faint 
suggestion  of  the  odor  of  violets. 

September  and  October  passed  quietly  in 
Thornton,  with  no  events  beyond  those  com- 
mon to  the  place  and  people.  The  harvests 
were  gathered,  the  leaves  fell  and  huddled  in 
heaps  at  the  edges  of  the  woods,  the  fields  lay 
in  dull,  rich  tones  of  green  and  russet,  and  the 
farmers  began  to  have  time  to  look  about  them 
a  little  and  to  make  ready  for  the  long  winter. 

Lina  Barry  was  now  known  to  be  ''  going 
with  "  a  prosperous  young  man  whose  father's 
farm  adjoined  that  of  her  father,  and  for  whom 
she  had  been  set  apart  by  tacit  consent  since 
her  childhood,  until  the  advent  of  Stephen 
Castle  had  suddenly  given  a  spur  to  her 
mother's  ambition,  and  stirred  a  romantic  in- 
terest in  the  girl's  heart.  For  a  time  she  had 
treated  her  old  lover  coldly,  influenced  more  by 
her  mother's  wishes  than  her  own ;  but  of  late 
she  had  been  more  favorably  inclined  to  him, 
and  Mrs.  Wescott,  as  usual,  gave  voice  to  the 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


popular  feeling  in  Thornton  when  she  said  that 
"  for  her  part  she  was  glad  Mis'  Barry  had  got 
through  settin'  poor  Liny's  cap  at  Elder  Castle. 
'Twa'n't  no  kind  o'  use,  if  she  did  beat  the 
county  on  doughnuts." 

Stephen  Castle,  observing  what  had  come  to 
pass,  although  he  never  suspected,  being  a 
modest  fellow,  that  Lina  had  felt  more  than  an 
ordinary  interest  in  himself,  recalled,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  dream  of  the  night,  unreal  and  impos- 
sible, a  time  when  Lina  had  seemed  to  him 
the  ideal  wife  for  some  man,  even  fancying 
himself  the  man.  His  mother,  who  had  hoped 
for  such  an  event,  began  now  to  feel  the  change 
in  him,  and  grew  uneasy  and  depressed ;  but  she 
kept  het  thoughts  to  herself  with  inborn  reserve. 

It  was  in  November,  one  Sunday  morning, 
that  something  happened  which  shook  Thorn- 
ton throughout  its  length  and  breadth.  This 
bombshell  consisted  merely  in  the  presence  of 
two  strange  gentlemen  at  the  morning  service. 
They  came  late  and  left  early,  driving  out  from 
Pembroke,  and  they  made  themselves  known  to 
no  one.  Mrs.  Wescott,  who  sat  behind  them 
during  the  service,  however,  formed  her  own 
conclusions,  which  she  imparted  to  a  knot  of 
women  in  a  corner  of  the  vestry  at  noon. 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


"They  set  right  in  front  of  me,"  she  said, 
"  and  they  was  both  dressed  in  their  black 
broadcloth,  as  fine  as  satin,  and  their  collars 
and  cuffs  shone  so  you  could  'most  see  your 
face  in  them.  One  of  them  had  on  a  big  ring 
with  a  stone  in  it ;  he  was  the  young  one.  The 
old  feller,  he  had  the  long,  gray  side  whiskers, 
and  looked  kind  o'  militerry.  And  now  let  me 
jest  tell  you  that  as  sure  's  my  name  's  Electy 
Wescott  and  I  'm  standin'  here,  that  man  was 
own  father  to  that  han'some-lookin'  young 
woman  that  come  here  to  church  a  couple  of 
times  with  the  Deerings.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber? He  had  jest  such  eyes,  and  jest  such  a 
way  of  holdin'  his  head.  And  if  you  want  to 
know  what  I  felt  like  callin'  out  when  1  see 
them  two  men  stealin'  out  of  the  church,  I  '11 
tell  you :  '  Shoot  them  while  they  're  goin' 
through  the  door !  They  've  come  here  to 
steal  our  minister.' " 

"  But  what  makes  you  think  so,  Lee?  "  some- 
body asked. 

"Think  so?  I  know  so,"  Lecty  sniffed  con- 
temptuously. "Those  men  don't  hail  from 
Pembroke,  and  they  don't  hail  from  anywheres 
this  side  of  the  city  of  New  York.  Now  that 
much  I  '11  bet  you,  if  it  is  Sunday,  and  in  the 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


meetin'-house  too  !  What  did  they  come  up 
here  in  their  broadcloth  and  gold  rings  for,  and 
come  out  to  Thornton  to  meetin'  if  'tvva'n't 
jest  to  spy  out  what  kind  of  a  preacher  we  'd 
got  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  've  heard  of  sech  things  before 
now.  That 's  the  way  they  do  it  in  them  big 
city  churches.  They  hear  that  some  poor  little 
strugglin'  church  in  the  country  has  got  a  min- 
ister they  love  and  they  're  all  united  on,  and 
they  think,  '  Well,  if  he  's  as  smart  as  they  say, 
maybe  he  '11  do  for  us ;  he  's  most  likely  too  big 
a  man  for  country  folks."  But  they  don't  send 
and  ask  him  to  come  and  preach  a  sermon  to 
them  fair  and  square.  No,  they  send  a  couple 
of  spies  to  see  if  they  think  he  '11  do,  and  then 
they  wait  a  spell,  and  the  next  thing  you  know 
your  minister 's  got  took  sudden  to  go  off  and 
pay  a  visit  to  his  old  pastor,  or  to  his  grand- 
mother, or  else  it 's  to  look  at  a  new  organ. 
He  keeps  kind  o'  still  about  what  direction 
he  's  goin'  to  travel  in,  but  pretty  soon  he  gets 
a  call  and  then,  '  Hurrah,  boys  !  It 's  off  and 
away  to  the  city.'  It 's  the  Lord  callin'  and  no 
mistake  !  You  '11  see  if  it  don't  come  out  as  I 
say." 

And  so  it  did,  in  fact,  befall.     A  month  from 
that  day  Stephen  Castle  read  his  resignation  as 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


pastor  of  the  Thornton  church,  in  order  to  ac- 
cept the  call  of  the  Church  of  All  Good  Spirits 
in  New  York  City  to  become  their  pastor.  He 
spoke  in  frank  and  manly  fashion  to  his  people, 
who  heard  him  with  blinding  tears.  He  told 
them  plainly  that  he  had  become  restless  and 
dissatisfied,  not  through  any  fault  of  theirs,  but 
because  he  wanted  to  be  where  he  could  im- 
prove and  develop  among  other  men.  He 
expected  life  to  be  harder  than  it  had  been 
here,  where  they  had  all  been  so  gentle  to  his 
faults  and  mistakes,  and  he  knew  that  he  could 
never  love  any  other  people  as  he  loved  them. 

"  All  the  same  he  's  goin',"  said  Mrs.  Wes- 
cott  at  the  close  of  the  service,  mopping  her 
eyes  with  a  very  wet  handkerchief.  "  And  I 
don't  see  any  kind  o'  use,  for  my  part,  in  gettin' 
a  new  bonnet  this  winter,  do  you,  Aunt  Elizy  ?  " 

The  old  lady  sat  beside  her  in  the  pew,  and 
a  tear  was  slipping  quietly  down  her  withered 
cheek. 

"  That 's  your  way  of  putting  it,  Electy,"  she 
said  quietly.  "There  don't  seem  very  much 
left  to  live  for,  not  just  now.  But  it 's  all  right, 
Stephen,"  she  said,  looking  up  into  the  face  of 
the  young  man,  who  had  come  to  the  end  of 
the  pew  and  stood  leaning  over  to  speak  to 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


her  with  flushed  face  and  dim  eyes.  "  It 's  all 
right,  Stephen.  It  will  be  a  different  life  from 
this  for  you,  and  you  're  young  and  strong,  and 
you  ought  to  have  a  chance  to  grow.  I  'm 
sorry  for  the  people  here.  I  sha'n't  stay  long 
to  mind  it.  I  expected  you  would  be  close  by 
when  the  call  came  for  me,  and  I  thought  I 
should  like  to  have  you  hold  my  hand ;  but  it 's 
all  right."  And  the  little  old  lady  looked  up 
through  her  tears  in  the  bright,  sweet  way 
which  Stephen  loved. 

"  You  are  to  send  for  me  when  you  want  me, 
Aunt  Eliza,"  he  said  earnestly,  his  own  voice 
breaking.  "  I  will  come  to  you.  I  promise  to. 
I  shall  never  change  to  my  Thornton  people ; 
they  will  always  be  mine,  just  as  much  as  they 
are  now,"  he  was  protesting;  but  she  put  up 
her  finger  and  lightly  touched  his  lips,  and  said 
with  a  quaint  smile,  — 

"  You  think  so  now,  but  you  will  know  better 
when  you  are  older." 


VII. 

The  sole  thing  that  I  remark 

About  the  difficulty,  this  : 

We  do  not  see  it  where  it  is, 

At  the  beginning  of  the  race  ; 

As  we  proceed,  it  shifts  its  place, 

And  where  we  looked  for  crowns  to  fall, 

We  find  the  tug  's  to  come,  —  that  's  all. 

BROWNING. 


N,  did  you  say  that  Mr.  Wells 
was  a  deacon  of  your  church?  " 

It  was  Mrs.  Castle  who  spoke,  lean- 
ing back  in  a  cushioned  armchair  in  a  tiny  and 
much-upholstered  reception-room.  It  was  one 
of  a  small  suite  of  furnished  rooms  which  they 
had  taken  in  an  apartment  house  in  New  York. 
It  was  night,  and  twelve  o'clock  by  the  French 
clock  on  the  mantel,  which  told  the  hour  in  a 
tone  far  more  melodious  than  that  of  the  old 
timepiece  which  presided  over  the  parsonage 
living-room  in  Thornton. 

The  face  of  this  was  encircled  by  the  arms 

of  certain  smiling  and  gilded  nymphs,  of  whose 

general  effect  Mrs.  Castle  strongly  disapproved. 

She  felt  uneasily  that  they  expressed  the  ten- 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


dency,  which  prevailed  in  her  new  environment, 
to  diminish  the  emphasis  on  the  solemn  passing 
of  the  hours,  —  the  view  of  life  as  "  a  winter's 
day,  a  journey  to  the  tomb."  Feeling  this  now 
with  peculiar  distinctness,  she  listened  severely 
to  the  silvery  softness  of  the  tone  with  which 
the  hour  was  told. 

Mrs.  Castle  wore  a  new  black  silk  gown 
which  she  had  had  made  in  Pembroke  before 
leaving  Thornton  two  weeks  ago,  and  it  sat 
primly  on  her  narrow,  stiffened  form.  She 
wore  black  kid  gloves  over  her  work-hardened 
hands,  through  which  the  enlarged  joints  would 
show  themselves,  and  she  carried  stiffly  in  one 
hand  a  starched  handkerchief  precisely  folded. 
Her  face  was  pale,  and  wore  a  disturbed  and 
anxious  expression.  They  had  just  returned 
in  Mr.  Loring's  carriage  from  a  reception  given 
in  Stephen's  honor  at  that  gentleman's  house. 
There  had  been  an  official  reception  to  the  new 
pastor  at  the  chapel  of  the  Church  of  All  Good 
Spirits  the  week  before.  The  affair  of  this 
evening  had  been  purely  social,  although  it  was 
within  its  purpose  to  enable  the  members  of 
the  church,  or  rather  those  belonging  to  the 
inner  circle,  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
Stephen  Castle. 

5  65 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


In  reply  to  his  mother's  question,  Stephen, 
who  had  thrown  himself  upon  a  divan  and  was 
looking  intently  at  the  pink  and  green  frescos 
on  the  ceiling  over  his  head,  remarked,  in  a 
slightly  defensive  tone, — 

'•  Certainly,  mother.  Why  do  you  ask  the 
question  in  such  a  way?  " 

"  It  don't  seem  possible,"  Mrs.  Castle  re- 
turned, with  something  between  a  groan  and  a 
sigh.  "  I  guess  Christians  in  New  York  are  n't 
much  like  Christians  out  in  the  country,  or 
churches,  or  deacons." 

"  In  some  outward  points  I  suppose  they  are 
different,"  said  Stephen,  kindly ;  "but  at  heart 
I  have  no  doubt  they  are  alike  everywhere." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  Stephen.  It  looks 
very  queer  to  me,  and  I  guess  I  sha'n't  ever 
feel  at  home  very  much  in  your  new  church. 
This  Mr.  Wells,  and  you  say  he  's  a  deacon, 
stood  right  beside  my  chair  there,  a  spell  before 
they  dished  their  icecream,  and  he  was  talk- 
ing to  a  young  man  about  a  whist-party  — 
that 's  what  he  called  it  —  that  was  going  to  be 
at  his  house  —  I  mean  Mr.  Wells's  house  —  and 
he  was  urging  that  young  man,  Stephen,  to  come 
there  and  play  cards  !  And  he  's  a  deacon  in 
your  church  !  It  must  be  a  different  kind  of 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


a  church  to  any  I  ever  was  acquainted  with, 
where  the  deacons  themselves  play  cards  and 
entice  young  men  into  such  sinful  pleasures,  as 
if  they  would  n't  go  fast  enough  themselves.  I 
don't  know,  I  never  felt  so  in  my  life.  It 
seemed  as  if  it  kind  of  struck  to  my  stomach ;  " 
and  Mrs.  Castle,  who  had  sat  up  with  sudden 
energy  as  she  talked,  dropped  her  head  again 
on  the  back  of  the  chair. 

As  Stephen  said  nothing,  she  soon  began 
again,  — 

"  That  was  n't  the  only  thing,  nor  the  worst 
thing.  How  did  you  feel  when  you  saw  those 
women,  —  the  way  they  were  dressed  ?  Did 
you  think  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  belonged  in 
such  a  place  ?  "  and  a  flush  came  in  her  faded 
cheeks,  and  an  indignant  spark  in  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  get  so  stirred  up,  mother,"  Stephen 
said  soothingly.  "You  must  remember  that 
we  are  not  used  to  city  wa'ys  yet." 

"  No,  and  I  thank  the  Lord  I  am  not  used 
to  city  ways,  if  those  are  city  ways,  and  I  pray 
I  never  shall  be  !  I  was  all  mixed  up  one 
time,"  she  continued,  after  a  little  pause,  "  and 
I  suppose  some  of  the  folks  had  a  laugh  at  my 
ignorance ;  but  I  guess  it 's  just  as  well  not  to 
know  too  much  about  some  things.  One  of 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


those  pretty-looking  young  girls  that  wore  so 
much  of  that  thin  gauzy  stuff  come  up  to  me, 
and  got  an  introduction  and  talked  a  little. 
She  looked  pleasant  enough,  but  she  had  n't 
much  to  say,  and  I  had  n't,  and  I  was  just 
hoping  you  would  come  around  and  propose 
to  go  home,  when  she  said,  '  Have  you  seen 
Miss  Owen  yet?'  and  I  said,  'No,  I  don't 
think  she  's  been  introduced,  though  she  may 
have  been ;  it 's  hard  remembering  so  many 
names.'  At  that  I  saw  she  looked  kind  of  puz- 
zled, and  then  she  said,  'Oh,  I  don't  mean 
anybody  here,  I  was  speaking  of  Miss  Marie 
Owen  who  has  been  playing  Juliet  at  the  Metro- 
politan. You  must  be  sure  to  go  and  see  her.'  " 

Stephen  could  not  restrain  a  smile  at  this, 
knowing  that  his  mother  had  always  regarded 
a  theatre  as  having  geographically  a  close  prox- 
imity to  the  realms  of  darkness. 

"What  did  you  say?  "  he  asked. 

"Say?  What  should  a  Christian  say?  I 
said,  '  No,  my  dear,  I  shall  never  be  seen  in- 
side of  a  theatre  while  I  have  my  senses,  and 
I  want*  to  ask  you  if  you  think  it  is  a  place  for 
an  immortal  soul  on  its  way  to  eternity  to  be 
found?  How  would  you  like  to  be  called  to 
die  in  such  a  place  ? '  When  I  put  it  straight 
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Minister  of  the  World 


to  her  conscience,  I  could  see  it  went  home ; 
she  colored  up,  and  said  she  was  sorry  she  had 
made  such  a  mistake.  Then  I  told  her  I  was 
sorry  too,  but  the  gates  of  mercy  was  wide  open 
even  for  those  that  had  wandered  far.  It  was 
just  then  that  you  came  up,  and  I  left  her." 

There  was  a  little  silence  in  the  room. 
Stephen  was  looking  at  his  mother  with  a  pang 
in  his  heart,  as  he  saw  the  keen  suffering  she 
was  enduring  for  his  sake.  She  had  been  very 
silent  since  they  reached  New  York,  although 
there  had  been  a  homeless,  piteous  look  upon 
her  face  as  she  moved  about  the  small,  over- 
furnished  rooms  of  their  new  domicile,  —  a  home 
they  could  hardly  call  it,  —  vaguely  seeking  for 
something  to  do.  The  rooms  were  kept  in 
order  for  them ;  she  did  not  even  have  the 
privilege  of  making  her  own  bed,  and  she  was 
too  timid  to  ask  for  it,  and  they  took  their 
meals  in  the  general  dining-room  of  the  house. 
But  all  the  bitter  homesickness  in  her  heart  Mrs. 
Castle  would  have  kept  resolutely  to  herself. 
Stephen  had  felt  it  his  duty  to  respond  to  the 
call  to  this  new  church,  and  she  would  follow, 
cost  what  it  might.  But  now  her  conscience 
had  been  alarmed ;  an  awful  fear  had  overtaken 
her  that  the  Church  of  All  Good  Spirits  was 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


not  the  Church  of  God,  and  she  could   keep 
silence  no  longer. 

Stephen  Castle  was  not  a  small  man.  Some 
men  in  his  position  would  have  been  mortified 
by  the  display  of  rustic  ignorance  on  the 
part  of  his  mother,  and  would  have  yielded  to 
the  irritation  which  such  a  feeling  would  incite. 
But  the  young  man  was  too  profoundly  affected 
himself  to  give  way  to  petty  or  superficial  con- 
siderations. He  had  made  like  discoveries 
which  amazed  and  shocked  him  no  less  than 
they  had  his  mother,  and  in  his  own  heart  he 
was  simply  appalled  at  the  situation  before  him. 
These  two  people  had  lived  all  their  lives  in 
remote,  inland  villages  of  Northern  New  Eng- 
land. The  most  rigid  Puritanic  scruples  had 
been  handed  down  through  successive  genera- 
tions. It  had  been  a  ministerial  family,  charac- 
terized hitherto  by  respectable  but  not  marked 
ability,  and  by  the  most  unflinching  devotion 
to  a  sense  of  duty.  Mrs.  Castle  was  a  some- 
what narrow  woman,  but  she  was  the  product 
of  generations  ready  to  die  at  the  stake  or  in 
battle  for  the  sake  of  principle,  and  the  same 
stuff  was  in  her.  In  her  son  was  a  strain  of 
the  imaginative,  idealizing  temperament,  —  more 
of  flexibility,  less  of  severity.  Furthermore,  he 
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was  bound  to  be  hopeful  by  all  the  exigencies 
of  the  position. 

"  Well,  mother,"  he  said,  rising  and  opening 
the  door  into  her  room,  "  we  must  remember 
that  we  have  not  all  the  truth  ourselves,  and 
we  may  find  much  that  is  good  underneath 
these  appearances  which  trouble  us  so  to-night. 
Don't  lie  awake.  Don't  worry.  God  will  help 
us,  perhaps,  to  make  these  people  over  in  some 
way.  Perhaps  that  is  what  He  brought  me 
here  for." 

"  If  they  don't  make  you  over  into  one  of 
their  own  kind  instead,  Stephen;  that  is  what 
I  am  most  afraid  of ;  "  and  Mrs.  Castle  looked 
with  piercing  keenness  into  her  son's  face. 

"  Hardly,"  he  said,  with  a  faint  attempt  at 
a  smile.  "  I  have  too  much  of  your  blood  in 
my  vein3  for  that.  Good-night !  " 


VIII. 

Through  what  tears  and  sweat  and  pain 

Must  he  gain 

Fruitage  from  the  tree  of  life! 
Shall  it  yield  him  bitter  flavor  ? 

Shall  its  savor 
Be  as  manna  midst  the  turmoil  and  the  strife  F 

EMMA  LAZARUS. 

R.  LORING,  the  father  of  Stephanie, 
was  in  certain  ways  the  most  influential 
member  of  the  Church  of  All  Good 
Spirits.  He  was  a  man  of  much  wealth  and 
some  culture,  of  great  personal  popularity,  with 
a  decided  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  church ; 
but  in  this  and  in  all  things  he  was  keen,  al- 
though not  unscrupulous,  a  master  at  manoeuvre, 
and,  first  and  last  and  always,  a  business  man. 
It  was  thus  a  matter  of  no  great  difficulty  for 
Stephanie  to  bring  about  the  call  to  Stephen 
Castle,  which  was,  as  must  have  been  inferred, 
the  immediate  result  of  her  efforts.  All  through 
the  months  at  Newport  she  had  talked  to  her 
father  of  the  wonderfully  brilliant  young  preacher 
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whom  she  had  discovered  away  off  among  the 
New  England  hills.  She  had  dwelt  upon  his 
physical  power  and  beauty,  upon  his  personal 
charm  and  magnetism,  and  upon  his  intellectual 
promise,  until  her  father,  who  was  chairman  of 
the  pulpit  committee  of  his  church,  finally  con- 
sented to  present  the  name  of  Stephen  Castle 
at  the  first  committee  meeting  held  in  October. 
He  did  this  with  easy,  laughing  apology  for  call- 
ing the  attention  of  the  gentlemen  to  "  a  country 
boy,"  for  he  supposed  him  to  be  really  nothing 
more,  but  he  had  heard  —  how,  he  omitted  to 
say  —  that  he  was  a  fellow  of  extraordinary 
talent,  and,  of  course,  other  things  being  equal, 
nothing  would  draw  like  a  young  enthusiastic 
man  in  the  pulpit.  He  would  probably  be  a 
little  green  and  countrified  at  first,  but  that 
could  be  depended  upon  to  wear  off,  etc.,  etc. 
As  he  and  Stephanie  had  expected,  Mr.  Loring, 
with  another  member  of  the  committee,  was 
deputed  to  go  to  Thornton  quietly  and  to  hear 
the  young  man  preach.  We  know  the  results  of 
this  errand. 

The  negotiations  with  Stephen  himself  had 

impressed  the  young  clergyman  as  more  purely 

businesslike  than  he  would  have  wished ;   but 

he  felt  himself  at  a  certain  disadvantage  with 

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these  polished,  elegant  men,  and  distrusted  his 
own  impressions. 

"Your  preaching  is  what  we  want,"  Mr. 
Loring  had  said.  "Pastoral  work  is  not  ex- 
pected in  our  church,  except  in  extreme  cases, 
—  illness  and  death.  You  will,  of  course,  meet 
our  people  frequently  at  dinners  and  receptions 
and  all  that.  We  shall  try  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
you  socially.  But  what  our  church  wants  is  good 
preaching,  —  brains,  in  short,  Mr.  Castle  ;  and 
that  is  what  we  have  secured.  We  are  entirely 
satisfied  on  that  point.  Your  salary  will  be  five 
thousand,  —  not  as  large  as  it  ought  to  be,  but 
perhaps  a  little  advance  on  what  you  are  having 
now,  —  and  I  think  you  can  live  on  it,  in  a  quiet 
way,  of  course,  —  a  little  apartment,  you  know, 
or  something  of  that  sort.  We  will  try  to  help 
you  out.  My  daughter  is  great  on  all  that  kind 
of  thing." 

This  conversation  occurred  in  New  York 
after  the  Sunday  which  Stephen  had  spent 
there  in  the  late  autumn.  He  had  returned  to 
Thornton  and  the  little  parsonage  ;  and  as  he 
stepped  upon  the  yellow  painted  floor  of  the 
narrow  piazza,  passing  the  now  leafless  rose- 
bushes, he  thought  with  a  kind  of  shame  that  it 
was  this  house  and  eight  hundred  dollars  a  year 
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which  he  was  exchanging  for  a  salary  of  five 
thousand.  The  shame  was  lest  it  would  seem 
to  every  one  who  knew  it  that  it  was  this  dif- 
ference which  had  dazzled  and  drawn  him  away 
from  Thornton,  and  in  his  heart  of  hearts 
Stephen  Castle  knew  it  was  not  this.  But  it 
was  not  until  weeks  afterward  that  he  could 
bring  himself  to  mention  the  subject  of  his 
salary,  even  to  his  mother. 

In  the  plans  for  their  new  residence,  and  all 
their  domestic  arrangements,  Stephanie  Loring's 
help  had  been  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
them.  She  had  shown  herself  most  sincerely 
interested  in  caring  for  Mrs.  Castle's  comfort. 
It  was  to  her  that  Stephen  went  for  light  and 
knowledge  on  all  doubtful  points  which  came 
up  in  his  new  life ;  and  this  was  precisely  what 
she  had  expected. 

A  few  days  after  the  reception  at  Mr.  Lor- 
ing's, Stephen  called  at  the  house,  the  conven- 
tional brown-stone  front  in  the  correct  section 
of  Fifth  Avenue,  and  found  Stephanie  alone 
in  the  library.  There  was  delicate  flattery  in 
the  gladness  with  which  she  greeted  him,  and 
he  felt  an  exquisite  pleasure  in  watching  her 
grace  and  loveliness  as  she  sat  near  him,  and  in 
meeting  the  radiance  of  her  smile  as  they  ex- 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


changed  a  few  gay  repartees,  an  accomplish- 
ment which  Stephen  was  learning  readily.  But 
he  was  not  in  a  gay  mood  at  heart,  and  soon 
he  said  with  a  sudden,  impatient  gesture,  — 

"  Do  you  know,  Miss  Loring,  what  an  awful 
blunder  it  was,  bringing  me  here?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  discovered  the  blunder  yet," 
she  rejoined  promptly,  skilfully  hiding  her  dis- 
may at  his  words,  for  she  knew  that  he  spoke 
seriously. 

"  May  I  talk  with  you  plainly?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
am  tired,  —  not  bodily,  but  in  the  head  and  heart 
of  me,  —  and  I  want  to  say  things  as  I  really 
feel  them,  not  as  I  am  expected  to  say  them." 

"  I  wish  you  would  speak  perfectly  plainly. 
I  want  you  to  with  me  always,"  Stephanie 
said,  in  a  voice  which  was  half  caressing  in  its 
gentleness. 

"  Thank  you.  Well,  in  the  first  place,  if  you 
will  let  me  say  it,  All  Good  Spirits  is  a  fashion- 
able church,  an  ultra-fashionable  church.  \ 
have  found  this  out  by  a  little  questioning  here 
and  there  where  I  was  not  known ;  and  I  find 
they  call  it  the  '  Boudoir  Church,'  and  the  '  All 
Swells'  Church,'  and  all  that  kind  of  thing. 
This  is  the  simple  fact.  The  church  is  intended 
for  the  wealthy  and  aristocratic  class,  and  for 
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them  alone.  That  is  not  the  kind  of  church  I 
ever  ought  to  serve.  I  am  country  born  and 
bred.  More  than  that,  many  things  which  are 
matters  of  course  in  New  York  fashionable 
society  are  simply  monstrous  to  me.  The  ex- 
travagance in  flowers  and  on  the  table  at  these 
dinners  and  receptions  seems  to  me  actually 
wicked,  —  you  see  I  am  speaking  plainly;  the 
way  the  ladies  dress,  the  way  they  all  amuse 
themselves !  I  am  perplexed,  confused,  at  a 
loss  utterly.  I  have  always  supposed  that  all 
these  things  were  what  belonged  to  '  the  world ' 
in  the  Scriptural  sense,  and  that  the  abstaining 
from  them  was  essential  to  the  Christian  life. 
But  the  members  of  my  church  practise  these 
things  continually,  without  scruple  or  restraint. 
What  does  it  mean?  Are  they  all  wrong,  or 
am  I  all  wrong?  How  can  two  walk  together 
unless  they  are  agreed?"  and  Stephen  looked 
into  Stephanie's  face  with  unsmiling  eyes.  His 
own  face  was  stern  and  white. 

She  had  flushed  when  he  had  begun  his  talk, 
but  her  face  was  clear  now  and  composed. 

"  It  would  hardly  be  graceful  to  remind  you," 
she  said,  smiling,  "  who  it  was  that  said,  '  Why 
was  not  this  ointment  sold  for  three  hundred 
pence  and  given  to  the  poor  ?  '  ' 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Yes,"  he  returned  quickly,  "  but  it  was 
upon  the  feet  of  Christ  that  the  ointment  was 
poured  ;  and  all  this  lavish  waste  is  for  personal, 
even  sensuous  pleasure,  so  far  as  I  can  see." 

"  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Castle,  but  I  think  you  are 
wrong  there.  Do  you  not  see  that  there  may 
be  unselfishness  in  the  expenditure  of  several 
hundred  dollars  in  the  beauty  of  flowers  by  a 
woman  who  calls  her  friends  together  for  the 
sake  of  giving  them  happiness?  The  under- 
lying, perhaps  I  ought  to  say  the  ideal,  motive  in 
all  our  entertaining  is  to  brighten  life  for  one 
another,  to  give  it  joy  and  charm.  Now,  I 
claim  that  this  is  a  right  motive.  How  much 
ought  to  be  spent  in  this  way  is  for  each  person 
to  judge  himself.  Perhaps  the  woman  who 
spent  two  hundred  dollars  for  her  dinner  the 
other  night  had  sent  two  thousand  for  the 
work  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city." 

"  I  see  the  line  you  are  taking,  —  I  am  glad 
you  have  as  good  a  one.  I  suppose  we  all  give 
some  place  to  beauty  and  enjoyment  in .  our 
lives." 

"To  be  sure  we  do.     Those  people  at  the 

wedding  where   I  met  you,  in  Thornton,  had 

washed   up  their  pickle  jars   and    filled  them 

with   roses   and   peonies,  and  I  respected  the 

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effort  they  had  made  for  beauty  and  festivity. 
It  is  a  need  of  nature  in  all  of  us,  and  I  can 
see  nothing  worse  in  my  sending  an  order  for 
flowers  to  my  florist  where  I  am  trying  to  make 
a  number  of  people  forget  for  a  little  that  life  is 
a  '  horrid  grind.'  It  helps  the  florist,  it  gives 
pleasure,  it  cultivates  the  sense  of  beauty." 

"  But  how  about  the  amusements  ?  They  sit 
still  heavier  on  my  soul." 

"  There,  Mr.  Castle,  you  will  have  to  allow 
me  to  say  the  question  is  simply  one  of  educa- 
tion. You  have. been  brought  up  to  think  it 
was  right  to  play  with  dominoes  and  croquet 
balls,  and  wrong  to  play  with  cards  and  billiard 
balls ;  right  to  listen  to  tame  or  lame  elocu- 
tion, wrong  to  witness  the  magnificent  interpre- 
tations of  men  like  Booth  and  Jefferson.  Most 
people  in  this  part  of  the  world  think  that  all 
these  recreations  are  alike  as  far  as  moral  quality 
is  concerned,  and  the  question  which  they  shall 
use  is  merely  one  of  taste  and  preference." 

"  But  there  are  certainly  degrading  associa- 
tions with  card-playing  and  the  theatre  which 
make  them  unsuitable  for  use  by  thoughtful 
Christian  people." 

"  So  everything  about  us  is  capable  of  abuse. 
But  is  it  not  better  to  learn  self-restraint  and 
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the  proper  proportioning  of  these  things  to  the 
earnest  work  of  our  lives,  than  to  frown  indis- 
criminately upon  bad  and  good  alike?  Is  it 
not  really  a  higher  use  of  one's  moral  percep- 
tions?" and  she  looked  into  his  face  with  the 
witchery  of  her  wonderfully  brilliant  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  confess  you  bewilder 
me.  I  shall  have  to  go  home  and  quietly  ana- 
lyze what  you  have  said,  and  see  of  what  it  is 
made.  I  have  a  lingering  fear  that  sophistry 
and  self-indulgence  are  not  altogether  absent 
from  the  position  you  defend,  and  yet  you  have 
made  me  see  things  from  your  point  of  view." 

He  had  risen  now  to  go,  and  she  stood  facing 
him  before  the  fireplace. 

"  And  you  will  not  say  again  that  you  have 
made  a  blunder  in  coming  to  us?"  she  asked, 
looking  wistfully  at  him,  and  holding  out  both 
her  hands. 

He  took  them  in  his,  and  looked  down  into 
her  face,  his  own  much  moved. 

"  It  could  not  be  a  blunder  to  come  where 
you  led  me,"  he  said.  "Perhaps  —  I  do  not 
know  —  I  could  not  choose  but  follow;"  and 
with  that  he  was  gone. 

Stephanie,  standing  alone,  as  the  house  door 
shut,  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  her  eyes 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


flashed  with  a  sudden  light,  unlike  the  pleading 
softness  which  had  just  now  been  in  them. 

"  He,  too,  is  a  man  !  "  she  whispered  to  her- 
self with  something  like  exultation ;  "  even  he, 
at  last,  is  human  !  " 


81 


IX. 

1  have  stifled  more  than  one  nascent  love.  Why  ?  Because, 
with  that  prophetic  certainty  which  belongs  to  moral  intuition, 
1  felt  it  lacking  in  true  life,  and  less  durable  than  myself.  I 
choked  it  down  in  the  name  of  the  supreme  affection  to  come. 
The  loves  of  sense,  of  imagination,  of  sentiment,  —  I  have 
seen  through  and  rejected  them  all ;  I  sought  the  love  which 
springs  from  the  central  profundities  of  being.  —  AMIEL. 

EARLY  three  years  have  passed  since 
Stephen  Castle  became  pastor  of  the 
Church  of  All  Good  Spirits,  and  on  an 
evening  in  early  spring  we  find  him  in  a  select 
company  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  parish- 
ioners, Mrs.  Petersham.  Dinner  is  over,  and 
the  guests  are  standing  in  groups  about  the 
great  drawing-room,  which  is  magnificently  fur- 
nished, and  rich  with  paintings,  bronzes,  and 
porcelains  of  rare  value. 

Mrs.  Petersham,  who  is  a  widow  of  large 
wealth,  has  a  son  of  the  age  of  Stephen  Castle, 
and  between  the  two  men  a  friendship  has 
sprung  up.  As  a  result  the  young  pastor  had 
been  abroad  with  the  Petershams  on  a  journey 
of  several  months  in  the  preceding  summer 
and  fall. 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


To-night  Stephen  is  among  the  guests,  but 
his  old  Thornton  friends  might  hesitate  a  mo- 
ment before  they  recognized  him.  He  is  in 
full  dress,  with  a  single  white  rose  in  his  button- 
hole, and  above  the  broad  white  expanse  of  his 
shirt  front  his  face  rises  paler  and  thinner  than 
they  knew  it,  and  its  expression,  half  dreamy 
and  indifferent,  would  strike  them  as  yet  more 
strangely  altered.  The  old  boyish  frankness, 
the  eager  happiness,  has  gone  from  the  face, 
and  with  it  the  indescribable  spiritual  elevation 
which  made  it  so  like  the  face  of  some  strong 
young  saint.  The  face  is  at  once  prouder  and 
sadder  than  it  used  to  be,  more  intellectually 
refined,  more  reserved,  less  earnest. 

He  was  standing  now  before  a  painting  on 
an  easel  in  a  curtained  recess,  a  gentleman  and 
lady  with  him.  He  was  leaning  against  the 
wall  of  the  alcove,  with  something  of  languid 
grace  in  his  attitude,  unlike  his  old  alertness, 
and  with  eyelids  drawn  narrowly  he  surveyed 
the  picture  with  critical  scrutiny. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  it  in  Paris,"  he  replied  to  the 
lady  who  had  just  asked  him  a  question ;  "  but 
that  was  five  months  ago.  Mrs.  Petersham  has 
only  received  it  within  a  day  or  two." 

"  It  was  at  the  Salon,  was  it  not?  " 
83 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Yes.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing."  Stephen 
spoke  the  last  words  almost  under  his  breath. 

The  painting  showed  a  woman,  exquisitely 
beautiful,  reclining  under  green  ilex-trees.  The 
landscape  was  plainly  Grecian.  Beside  her, 
prone  and  submissive,  lay  a  tiger.  One  of  her 
fair  white  arms  was  dropped  across  his  sleek, 
tawny  shoulders.  Her  attitude  was  of  indolent 
repose,  her  face  dreamily  content ;  only  the 
eyes  were  fixed  with  eager  desire  upon  the  sea, 
where  a  storm-tossed  boat  could  be  seen  pass- 
ing near  the  shore,  the  sailors  looking  shore- 
ward with  anxious  faces. 

Across  the  room  Stephanie  Loring  was  the 
centre  of  a  group  where  several  gentlemen  were 
vying  with  one  another  in  winning  her  smiles 
and  attention.  She  was  dressed  with  unusual 
elegance,  in  gleaming  white  satin,  with  a  fall  of 
lace  around  her  beautiful  shoulders ;  and  her 
brilliant  beauty  and  wit  made  her  the  central 
point  of  the  company. 

It  was  not  long  before  she  slipped  away  from 
the  people  she  was  with,  and  came  quietly  into 
the  recess  where  Stephen  Castle  was  still  regard- 
ing the  picture.  He  was  alone  now. 

"  I  must  see  this  wonderful  new  picture,"  she 
said,  not  looking  at  Stephen,  but  standing  so 
84 


Across  the  room  Stephanie  Loring  was  the  centre  of  a  group. 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


near  him  that  the  lace  of  her  dress  touched  his 
arm.  "  Mrs.  Petersham  always  finds  the  love- 
liest things,"  she  added,  in  her  clear,  cool  tone 
de  societe, 

For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence ;  then 
Stephanie  said  in  a  lower  voice,  through  which 
some  inner  feeling  vibrated,  — 

"  Do  you  like  it?  The  subject  is  always  so 
disagreeable,  I  think.  I  wonder  that  you  should 
find  so  much  in  it,  Mr.  Castle." 

"  It  is  a  great  picture  to  me,"  he  said,  half 
carelessly ;  "  it  is  what  it  suggests,  not  what  it 
shows,  which  gives  it  power." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  she  responded  lightly,  "  it  might 
make  good  sermon  material.  Naturally  !  How 
stupid  I  was !  I  shall  expect  a  famous  sermon 
to  young  men  before  long,  with  Mrs.  Petersham's 
pretty  Circe  —  she  is  certainly  extremely  pretty 
—  for  a  text.  I  can  see  how  you  could  use  it 
charmingly." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Stephen,  with  mock 
gratitude. 

"  But  really,  Mr.  Castle,  you  do  use  a  classic 
motif  like  that  wonderfully.  I  heard  so  many 
persons  speak  of  the  sermon  into  which  you 
wove  the  Iphigenia  story.  It  made  a  very  great 
impression." 

85 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Just  then  Lloyd  Petersham  joined  them,  an- 
nouncing that  the  carriages  were  ready  now  and 
it  was  time  to  leave  for  the  opera.  Patti  was 
singing  in  opera.  Mrs.  Petersham's  guests  were 
to  occupy  her  box  that  evening  at  the  Academy. 
As  Stephen  and  Stephanie  turned  to  join  the 
others,  Lloyd  Petersham  said,  — 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Castle,  I  stopped  at  your 
rooms  on  my  way  up  to-night,  thinking  you 
might  not  have  left,  and  they  gave  me  this  letter 
for  you.  It  was  all  the  afternoon  mail  brought 
you,  I  believe ;  "  and  he  handed  Stephen  a  let- 
ter. It  was  in  a  yellow  envelope,  and  the 
address  was  written  in  a  stiff,  uncertain  hand. 
The  postmark  was  Thornton.  Murmuring  his 
thanks,  Stephen  slipped  the  letter  into  his 
pocket  and  followed  his  friend  to  the  dressing- 
room.  He  rode  in  the  carriage  with  Mrs. 
Petersham  to  the  Academy ;  and  when  they 
entered  the  box,  which  was  full  of  flowers 
and  fragrance,  Stephen  quietly  took  a  chair 
behind  Stephanie,  in  the  background  of  the  gay 
company,  where  he  could  be  still  if  he  chose. 

They  were  late ;  one  act  was  already  over, 

and  the  violins  were  sighing  in  yearning  tones 

over  the  overture  to  the  second.     The  curtain 

rose ;  the  prima- donna  sang  her  bravest ;  the 

86 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


audience  went  wild ;  and  then  the  curtain  fell, 
and  the  lights  flared  up  again. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Stephen  for  some 
reason  remembered  the  letter  in  his  pocket, 
and  turning,  to  be  unobserved,  he  broke  the 
seal  and  looked  at  the  signature.  He  found 
this  to  be  "  Electa  Wescott,"  and  immediately 
he  reversed  the  sheet  and  read  the  letter 
through.  It  was  as  follows  :  — 

MR.  CASTLE. 

DEAR  AND  REVEREND  SIR,  —  I  have  the  sad 
news  to  give  you  that  Aunt  Eliza  is  no  more.  She 
had  not  been  sick  in  bed,  but  failing  slowly,  and  on 
Sunday  evening,  just  after  the  second  service,  she 
breathed  her  last  without  a  struggle.  I  may  truly 
say  that  she  died  in  peace.  You  was  one  of  the  last 
she  named.  When  the  church  bell  rang,  she  heard 
it,  and  she  said,  "  I  should  have  liked  to  see  Stephen 
Castle  once  more."  You  know  she  felt  free  to  call 
you  so,  and  you  will  excuse  me  that  I  repeat  her 
words.  We  asked  her  if  you  should  be  sent  for 
to  the  funeral,  and  she  shook  her  head  and  said, 
"  Too  far,  don't  trouble  him  ; "  but  she  wanted  her 
love  given,  and  she  always  grieved  a  good  deal  that 
your  poor  mother  died  and  left  you.  That  was 
more  than  a  year  ago,  and  Aunt  Eliza  has  failed 
faster  ever  since.  Aunt  Eliza  was  buried  yester- 
day, and  it  would  have  done  us  good  to  have  heard 
you  speak  a  few  words,  but  we  must  not  repine. 

87 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


We  shall  be  glad  if  you  can  come  and  make  us  a 
visit  some  time. 

Please  excuse  these  lines,  etc.,  etc. 

The  lights,  the  music,  the  flowers,  the  beau- 
tiful women  all  seemed  to  whirl  away  from 
Stephen  Castle  as  he  read  this  letter,  and  he 
was  in  a  low-roofed  farmhouse  in  Thornton, 
bending  over  his  old  friend,  meeting  the  love- 
light  in  her  eye  before  it  was  quenched  forever, 
catching  one  last  glimpse  of  her  spirit  before  it 
fled.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  would  have 
given  all  that  made  his  life  just  then  to  have 
looked  once  more  into  the  sweet  old  face.  He 
had  never  known,  except  from  his  mother,  a 
love  so  tender,  so  exalted  as  Aunt  Eliza's,  nor 
one  which  so  uplifted  his  own  nature.  She  was 
one  of  those  rare  persons  who  mysteriously 
touch  every  soul  they  meet  to  its  utmost  of 
purity  and  aspiration.  No  woman  whom  he 
had  seen  in  all  this  glittering  world  in  which  he 
moved  now,  was  in  this  way  to  be  compared 
with  her. 

"I  loved  her, —  she  needed  me,"  the  young 
man  cried  in  his  heart,  holding  the  letter  crushed 
in  his  hand ;  and  a  moment  after  he  rose,  and, 
making  his  way  to  Mrs.  Petersham,  excused 
himself  and  left  the  place. 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Mr.  Loring  was  in  the  parquet  with  a  friend, 
and  he  watched  Stephen  as  he  appeared  for  a 
moment  in  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  the 
box,  bending  with  courtly  deference  to  speak 
to  his  hostess. 

"  I  tell  you,"  Mr.  Loring  remarked  to  his 
friend,  "  I  never  saw  anything  equal  the  trans- 
formation in  that  fellow,  —  Castle,  I  mean. 
When  he  came  here  he  was  good-looking 
enough  —  he  could  n't  help  being  striking,  put 
him  anywhere  —  and  talented,  you  know,  a 
scholar  —  but  that  was  all.  He  had  been  in 
the  country  all  his  life,  knew  nothing  of  society, 
art,  music,  the  ways  of  the  world  on  any  side. 
He  was  full  of  a  lot  of  Puritanic  notions,  and 
I  thought  for  a  while  he  would  kick  out  of  the 
traces  the  best  we  could  do.  But  bless  your 
heart !  inside  of  a  year  he  settled  down  to  busi- 
ness in  great  shape,  and  I  certainly  never  saw 
a  man  improve  so  rapidly  in  my  life.  He  has 
travelled,  you  know ;  is  up  on  art ;  hears  good 
music,  an  opera  now  and  then,  —  nothing  be- 
yond clerical  propriety,  of  course,  —  preaches 
elegant  sermons,  and  he  can  hold  his  own  so- 
cially with  any  clergyman  in  New  York." 

"  Yes,  I  hear  the  ladies  are  all  breaking  their 
hearts  over  him.  He  is  getting  to  be  the  fash- 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


ion,  you  might  say.  Don't  they  spoil  him  with 
all  the  flattery?  He  is  a  young  fellow  still." 

"  No,  they  can't  spoil  him,  and  they  can't 
catch  him  either ;  that 's  what  amuses  me  ! "  said 
Mr.  Loring,  laughing  ;  and  then  the  curtain  rose, 
and  the  conversation  ended. 

The  following  morning  Stephen  Castle  was 
sitting  at  his  study-desk,  pen  in  hand,  essaying 
to  write  a  letter  of  sympathy  to  Electa  Wescott 
in  Thornton.  Her  letter  lay  on  the  table  beside 
him,  and  with  it  a  faded,  old-fashioned  card 
photograph  of  Aunt  Eliza,  which  would  have 
signified  nothing  to  a  stranger,  but  in  seeing 
which,  Stephen  could  call  up  vividly  the  arch 
smile,  the  unconscious  grace,  the  pure  sweet- 
heartedness  which  had  made  the  little  old  lady 
so  dear  to  him.  He  looked  careworn  and  sad 
this  morning,  and  the  letter  was  a  hard  one  to 
write.  Presently,  as  his  pen  groped  its  slow 
way  on,  he  was  interrupted  by  a  servant  who 
brought  him  the  letters  just  delivered  by  the 
postman. 

Stephen  pushed  his  writing-materials  aside, 
as  glad  of  an  occasion  for  postponing  a  difficult 
task,  and  proceeded  to  cut  open  the  several 
envelopes  with  a  silver  paper-knife  of  rare  and 
curious  device.  His  study  was  large  and  luxu- 
90 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


riously  appointed.  Costly  pictures  were  upon 
the  walls,  many  of  them  gifts  from  his  wealthy 
parishioners ;  but  in  one  remote  corner  hung  a 
photograph  of  Hunt's  "  Light  of  the  World," 
the  one  link  between  this  study  and  the  one  in 
the  little  parsonage  at  Thornton. 

One  letter  which  Stephen  opened  aroused  an 
expression  of  keener  interest  than  the  rest.  It 
was  dated  at  Winchester,  the  seat  of  the  Divinity 
School  where  he  had  himself  graduated,  and  it 
was  written  by  a  student  there  who  was  to  be 
ordained  pastor  of  the  church  in  Thornton  in 
the  following  June.  He  wrote  in  the  respectful 
tone  of  one  addressing  a  man  far  above  him,  — 
and  yet  with  a  manly  confidence  which  pleased 
Stephen  Castle,  —  to  ask  if  the  latter  would  be 
present  in  Thornton  at  the  time  of  his  ordina- 
tion, and  preach  the  sermon,  which  was  always 
looked  forward  to  as  the  event  of  these 
occasions. 

Stephen  turned  at  once  to  his  desk  and  wrote 
a  few  words  of  cordial  acceptance.  Then,  tak- 
ing up  a  calendar,  he  wrote  on  it  for  the  fifth, 
sixth,  and  seventh  of  June  the  word  "  Thorn- 
ton." This  done,  he  sat  a  long  time  with  his 
head  dropped  upon  his  hand,  thinking.  The 
last  time  he  had  visited  Thornton  was  on  his 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


way  home  from  the  burial  of  his  mother,  and 
this  circumstance  and  the  death  of  Aunt  Eliza 
brought  his  mother  very  tenderly  to  his  mind. 
Her  life  in  New  York  had  been  a  poor,  homely 
little  tragedy,  not  devoid,  after  all,  of  some 
great  elements.  Where  Stephen  had  gradually 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  his  environment,  she 
had  held  herself  rigidly  apart,  and  maintained 
her  position  of  Puritanic  soberness.  The  Church 
of  All  Good  Spirits  had  no  use  for  her,  this 
being  so,  and  she  distinctly  understood  this. 
At  Thornton  she  had  had  her  household  cares 
like  other  housewives,  but  she  had  been  con- 
sidered always  as  on  a  plane  above  all  the  rest, 
and  was  accustomed  to  being  deferred  to  as  a 
kind  of  spiritual  leader. 

Now  all  was  different.  In  her  inmost  heart 
she  was  convinced  that  her  son  was  being  led 
away  from  her,  and  from  "  pure  religion  and 
undefiled  ;  "  and  this  conviction  ate  into  the 
very  sources  of  her  vital  energy.  Homesick 
beyond  expression,  homeless  rather,  she  felt 
herself  a  useless  appendage  to  Stephen's  life, 
instead  of  being  its  chief  support ;  and  with  no 
word  of  upbraiding  or  complaint  she  pined  and 
failed  day  after  day,  so  gradually  that  Stephen 
did  not  dream  of  her  growing  weakness  until 
92 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


the  last.  Then,  with  full  consciousness,  she  lay 
down  to  die,  calm  and  collected,  without  tri- 
umphs or  ecstasies,  but  with  unshaken  faith, 
asking  only  at  Stephen's  hands  that  she  be 
taken  back  to  the  little  New  England  village 
where  she  was  born,  and  laid  to  rest  beside  his 
father. 

Stephen  had  sent  for  Emily  Merle,  who  had 
always  been  like  his  mother's  right  hand  in 
her  work  in  Thornton ;  and  the  girl  had  come 
and  taken  her  place  with  the  nurse  by  the  bed- 
side, and  had  remained  there  until  all  was  over. 
It  was  a  rest,  even  now,  to  recall  her  sweet, 
womanly  ways,  and  the  quiet  sympathy  which 
could  make  itself  felt  without  words.  Rousing 
suddenly  from  his  attitude  of  dejection,  he 
pulled  his  letter  to  Electa  Wescott  back  to  its 
place  before  him,  and  finished  it  with  no  fur- 
ther hesitation.  At  the  close  he  wrote  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  shall  make  you  all  a  visit  before  many 
months.  I  have  promised  Mr.  Waldo  to  preach 
his  ordination  sermon  in  June,  and  I  cannot  say 
how  glad  I  am  that  I  can  look  forward  to  seeing 
the  people  I  love  so  well  at  that  time." 

He  was  addressing  the  letter  when  his  friend, 
Lloyd  Petersham,  came  in.     After  a  little  con- 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


versation  of  no  particular  interest,  Petersham 
said,  with  a  troubled  expression,  — 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Loring  this  morning?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  been  out  at  all  yet." 

"  I  thought  he  might  possibly  have  been  in. 
You  have  not  heard,  then,  that  Miss  Loring  is 
quite  ill?" 

"  No,"  cried  Stephen,  much  startled ;  "  how 
can  it  be  so  ?  She  was  at  her  very  best,  appar- 
ently, last  night." 

"  I  know ;  I  never  saw  her  lovelier  or  more 
brilliant;  "  and  young  Petersham  spoke  as  if  it 
were  pleasant  to  recall  the  image  of  Stephanie 
as  they  had  seen  it  so  few  hours  before.  "  She 
was  taken,  it  seems,  with  a  severe  chill  not  very 
long  after  you  left,  and  went  home.  She  has 
been  alarmingly  ill  through  the  night." 

Stephen  rose  and  paced  the  room  with  uncon- 
cealed distress  upon  his  face. 

"  I  will  go  around  there  before  lunch,"  he 
said. 

"You  cannot  expect  to  see  her,"  said  Peter- 
sham, thoughtfully. 

"  No,  certainly  not,  but  I  can  at  least  know 
more  exactly  the  state  of  things." 

"  What  a  strange  fellow  you  are,  Castle  !  "  said 
the  other,  after  a  little  silence. 
94 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"How  so,  Lloyd?" 

"  Why,  do  you  know  I  believe  you  might 
have  had  the  right  to  be  near  her  at  a  time  like 
this  !  What  any  other  man  would  die  to  win 
you  hardly  seem  to  seek." 

Stephen  changed  color  perceptibly. 

"  Don't,  Petersham  !  "  he  exclaimed. 


95 


X. 


Falls  are  not  always  by  the  grosser  sins  which  the  world 
takes  count  of,  but  by  spiritual  sins,  subtle  and  secret,  which 
leave  no  stain  upon  the  outward  life. 

CARDINAL  MANNING. 

God  draws  a  cloud  over  each  gleaming  morn. 

Would  we  ask  why  ? 
It  is  because  all  noblest  things  are  bom 

In  agony. 

Only  upon  some  cross  of  pain  or  woe 

God's  son  may  lie ; 
Each  soul  redeemed  from  self  and  sin  must  know 

Its  Calvary. 

FRANCES  POWER  COBBE. 

TEPHEN  CASTLE  was  standing  in  the 
broad  upper  hall  of  the  Lorings' 
house,  which  was  dimly  lighted  and 
profoundly  still.  Below  in  the  library,  he  had 
left  Mr.  Loring  and  his  wife,  with  whom  he  had 
exchanged  a  few  agitated  words.  He  was  wait- 
ing now,  his  head  drooping  forward,  a  chilly 
dampness  gathering  on  his  forehead,  as  he 
watched  a  door  opposite  the  place  where  he 
stood.  It  opened  at  length  noiselessly,  and  a 
man  appeared,  who  joined  him  and  spoke  with 
96 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


the  calmness  of  the  experienced  physician  in 
a  time  of  crisis. 

"  Mr.  Castle,  I  believe  ?  Yes,  as  I  supposed. 
You  understand  it  is  Miss  Loring's  wish  to  see 
you.  It  is  to  be  regretted,"  with  a  deprecatory 
lifting  of  shoulders  and  brows,  "  on  account  of 
her  extreme  exhaustion,  but  I  suppose  we  can 
hardly  refuse  the  request." 

Stephen's  eyes  fell  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
doctor's  last  words,  and  a  tremor  ran  through 
his  frame  which  he  quickly  controlled. 

"  You  do  not  think  it  will  increase  the 
exhaustion  seriously?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  more  than  the  excitement  of  having 
her  wish  opposed.  I  do  not  anticipate  an 
immediate  change.  You  will,  of  course,  avoid 
any  subject  which  might  produce  agitation.  I 
depend  upon  your  judgment  entirely,  Mr. 
Castle,  as  Miss  Loring  wishes  to  see  you  alone." 

He  led  the  way  now  to  the  opposite  door, 
which  he  softly  opened,  saying,  as  he  did  so, 
"You  may  remain  about  half  an  hour  if  it 
seems  best ;  "  and  then,  Stephen  having  entered, 
he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

For  a  moment,  in  the  strange  hush  of  the 
room,  the  young  man  stood  unable  to  move 
forward.  It  was.  dark,  save  for  a  night-lamp 

7  97 


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burning  at  some  distance  from  the  door.  The 
air  had  a  peculiar  odor,  aromatic  and  yet 
stupefying.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  a  woman 
in  white  cap  and  apron  was  quietly  folding  a 
light  blanket,  which  she  laid  upon  the  bed,  and 
then  disappeared  into  an  adjoining  room. 

Then  at  last  Stephen  advanced  to  the  bed- 
side, took  the  chair  which  had  been  left  there 
for  him,  and  looked  again,  for  the  first  time  in 
many  weeks,  upon  the  face  of  Stephanie.  He 
had  not  seen  her  since  the  night  of  Mrs.  Peter- 
sham's dinner,  when  she  had  been  in  the  per- 
fection of  her  beauty  and  power,  —  gay,  witty, 
brilliant,  —  a  woman  of  the  world  with  the  world 
at  her  feet.  Now  he  saw  lying  on  the  broad 
pillows  a  white  shrunken  face  and  figure,  the 
small  thin  hands  lying  passively  over  the  cover- 
let, the  lips  colorless,  the  eyes  deeply  sunken, 
a  woman  around  whom  the  shadows  of  the  next 
world  seemed  to  be  gathering  thickly.  At  first 
Stephen  thought  he  could  discover  no  familiar 
line  or  look  in  the  face  before  him ;  but  when 
he  took  the  weak  hand  in  his  and  for  an  instant 
pressed  it  to  his  lips,  there  looked  out  from  the 
eyes  something  of  the  old  radiance  of  Stepha- 
nie's smile.  She  seemed  to  try  to  speak,  but 
in  vain,  for  no  sound  came  from  her  lips.  In 
98 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


sore  anguish  Stephen  sought  the  only  refuge 
which  seemed  left  to  him,  and  said  in  a  voice 
which  all  the  power  of  his  will  could  not 
steady,  — 

"Shall  I  pray,  dear?" 

Her  eyes  did  not  give  the  assent  for  which 
he  looked ;  but  she  spoke  now,  and  to  his 
surprise  quite  clearly,  the  old  familiar  inflec- 
tions of  her  voice  unchanged,  in  spite  of  its 
weakness. 

"  I  do  not  care,"  she  said ;  "  we  have  only 
a  little  time.  I  do  not  feel  that  it  would  make 
any  difference,  do  you?"  and  the  hollow  eyes 
looked  searchingly  into  his. 

Stephen's  surprise  was  so  great  that  he  did 
not  reply,  and  she  said,  — 

"  Of  course  it  is  the  proper  thing  for  you  to 
do,  but  it  would  not  mean  much  for  either 
of  us." 

Still  Stephen  was  speechless,  with  a  horror 
as  of  something  beyond  death  coming  upon 
him. 

"  Now,  lying  here,"  Stephanie  went  on 
feebly,  "nothing  holds,  you  see,  but  the  real 
things.  I  think  you  believed  in  prayer  when  I 
knew  you  first,  and  I  know  you  think  you  do 
now,  but  the  life  is  gone." 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


"Stephanie,"  Stephen  spoke  at  last  with 
exceeding  gentleness,  "  God  is  for  us  when  we 
need  Him,  even  though  I  am  cold  and  weak 
where  I  should  be  strong.  No  matter  how  I 
have  failed,  God  does  not  fail." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  murmured  half  impatiently, 
"  I  cannot  stop  to  argue.  I  have  only  a  little 
time,  you  see.  They  do  not  tell  me  so,  but  I 
know  by  their  faces.  I  thought  once  that  God 
was  so  close  and  real  to  you  that  you  would 
bring  Him  to  me,  —  you  understand  ?  I  had 
never  found  Him  and  doubted  everything  — 
then  I  saw  you,  up  there  in  Thornton." 

She  paused  a  little ;  and  Stephen,  softly 
smoothing  her  hand,  said,  — 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  You  came  to  church, 
and  afterward  I  saw  you  at  the  wedding." 

"  Then  I  was  determined  to  have  you  come 
here.  I  knew  I  could  do  it.  You  do  not 
know  why.  It  was  because  I  thought  your 
religion  could  stand  even  here.  I  needed  it. 
I  thought  you  could  give  it  to  me." 

"And  I  have  not,2'  murmured  Stephen, 
wondering,  in  a  consciousness  which  seemed 
to  overlie  the  unimaginable  abyss  of  his  pain, 
whether  ever  priest  had  heard  such  a  deathbed 
confession  as  this. 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  No,"  she  said  calmly,  using  in  her  stress 
only  the  necessities  of  bare  truth,  —  "  no,  you 
are  like  the  rest.  There  is  no  help,  no  God, 
in  what  you  preach.  It  could  not  stand,  —  the 
life  I  thought  you  had ;  so  there  is  nothing  left 
for  me." 

"  Oh,  Stephanie ;  "  and  Stephen  Castle 
groaned  aloud,  disregarding  for  an  instant  the 
danger  of  exciting  her,  in  the  poignancy  of  his 
suffering. 

"Do  not  mind,"  she  said  tenderly;  "life  is 
too  much  for  any  of  us,  I  think.  I  was  wrong 
to  expect  you  to  be  stronger  than  men  are. 
Pride  and  intellect  and  ambition  are  what 
really  rule  all  men ;  only  they  call  them  different 
names." 

Stephen  hardly  heard  what  she  said;  his 
whole  soul  was  concentrated  in  an  inner  cry 
that  God  would  undo  the  evil  he  had  wrought. 

She  had  turned  her  head  slightly  on  the 
pillow;  and  when  he  lifted  his  eyes,  he  was 
startled  at  the  expression  with  which  she  was 
watching  him. 

"We  will  not  speak  any  more  of  all  that," 

she  said,  smiling  faintly.     "  I  have  more  to  tell 

you,  —  the   other  reason  why  I  wanted  you  to 

come  to  us.     Perhaps  you  would  never  have 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


known  it  if —  I  were  not  so  ill ;  but  now,  you 
see,  I  cannot  wait.  You  must  know  it.  I  can- 
not keep  it  in  my  heart  to  the  very  end, 
Stephen ;  "  and  there  was  something  so  piteous 
in  the  appeal  of  her  face  and  voice,  so  unlike 
the  proud  woman  she  had  always  been,  that 
painful  tears  rushed  to  Stephen's  eyes. 

"  It  was  only,"  and  she  shielded  her  face 
from  his  eyes  with  one  transparent  hand,  "  that 
from  the  very  first,  with  all  my  life  and  all  my 
heart,  I  loved  you." 

There  was  a  throbbing  silence  for  a  moment, 
which  it  was  impossible  for  either  to  break ;  and 
then  Stephanie  said,  — 

"  It  is  strange  for  me  to  tell  you  this.  Life 
could  never  have  done  it ;  but  now  what  does 
it  matter?  It  is  the  one  true  thing  left  to  me, 
—  all  the  rest  of  my  life  seems  meaningless." 

Kneeling  beside  the  bed,  Stephen  drew  the 
wasted  form  for  a  moment  into  his  strong  arms, 
and  kissed  her  solemnly  on  brow  and  lips. 

"  God  bless  you  and  keep  you,  dear,  and  hold 
you  close,  and  give  you  light  and  peace.  Amen." 

His  voice  was  firm,  and  there  was  a  strange 
thrill  of  hope  and  power  in  it ;  and  as  he  rose 
to  his  feet,  he  seemed  to  shed  upon  Stephanie 
a  mysterious  grace  and  benediction. 
1 02 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Then  the  door  opened,  the  physician,  watch 
in  hand,  came  in  with  a  look  of  warning  on  his 
face,  and  the  clergyman  withdrew. 

White  and  haggard  and  half  benumbed  with 
pain,  Stephen  made  his  way  out  of  the  house 
and  on  through  the  darkness  of  the  night  to  his 
own  silent  rooms.  Having  struck  a  light,  he 
glanced  mechanically  at  his  own  reflection  in 
the  glass  over  his  dressing-table,  and  turned 
away  amazed  at  the  change  which  the  last  hour 
had  wrought  in  his  face.  There  were  lines  and 
furrows  in  it  such  as  only  remorse  and  sorrow 
cut,  but  what  struck  most  sharply  upon  his  con- 
sciousness was  the  perception  that  his  face  was 
no  longer  that  of  a  free  man.  The  look  of  self- 
poise,  of  freedom,  of  firm  will,  was  gone.  It 
had  become  an  irresolute,  tortured  face. 
Strangely  enough,  with  the  recognition  of  this 
change  came  the  thought  that  he  was  glad  that 
Emily  Merle  could  not  see  him  now. 

Entering  his  study,  Stephen  sat  down  beside 
the  desk,  and  with  his  head  bowed  between 
his  hands  he  remained  there  hour  after  hour, 
struggling  for  a  clear  comprehension  of  the 
point  reached  in  his  own  experience  which  had 
made  this  interview  with  Stephanie  possible, 
and  of  the  way  along  which  he  had  come  to  it. 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


He  did  not  dwell  long  upon  the  later  part 
of  their  conversation.  That  she  had  loved  him 
with  the  whole  power  of  her  nature,  and  that 
she  had  thus  confessed  her  love  in  the  hour  of 
her  extremity,  gave  him  just  now  little  per- 
sonal feeling.  Something  of  consecration  and 
of  emotion  seemed  to  rest  upon  him,  even  in 
his  pain,  from  this  revelation,  but  it  had  no 
power  to  hold  his  thoughts.  He  had  been 
under  the  spell  of  her  beauty  and  charm  all  the 
years  that  he  had  known  her,  although  some 
element  of  his  nature  had  always  risen  in  pro- 
test when  he  would  have  declared  himself  her 
lover.  The  very  delicacy  of  his  feeling  now 
forbade  his  placing  strong  emphasis  on  the  fact 
that  it  was  she  who  had  given  voice  to  the 
powerful  attraction  existing  between  them, 
rather  than  himself. 

The  awful  rock  upon  which  his  soul  seemed 
crashing  in  perpetual  wreck,  repeated  through 
hour  after  hour  of  the  night,  was  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  pronounced  by  a  soul  in  the  face 
of  death,  and  to  that  soul's  undoing,  faithless  to 
his  trust.  This,  in  brief,  was  to  him  the  import 
of  Stephanie's  words,  spoken  with  the  awful 
sincerity  of  death.  She  had  sought  power  and 
faith  and  guidance  in  him  as  in  one  standing  in 
104 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


vital  relation  to  God,  and  she  had  found  weak- 
ness and  self-seeking  and  spiritual  confusion. 
She  had  seen  the  desire  for  power  and  pre-emi- 
nence and  intellectual  distinction  crowding  out 
the  devotion  to  poor  and  humble  souls  as  those 
for  whom  Christ  died,  which  had  beeii  the 
passion  of  his  early  ministry.  She  had  seen 
the  crumbling  of  faith,  the  weakening  of  con- 
viction, the  subtle  admixture  of  motive.  He 
saw  it  now  with  startling  clearness,  but  so 
gradually  had  the  change  come  about  that  not 
until  this  hour  had  he  known  what  manner  of 
man  he  had  come  to  be.  Now,  at  last,  he 
saw  it,  and,  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  he  called 
himself  false  to  God  and  men,  —  false  to  the 
faith  of  his  fathers,  false  to  the  ideals  of  his 
youth. 

Stephen  Castle  was  no  coward.  That  Steph- 
anie might  have  known  all  the  way  along  that 
it  had  been  her  own  voice  which  won  him  away 
from  the  strength  and  simplicity  pf  his  earlier 
manhood,  did  not  for  a  moment  lessen  his  sense 
of  responsibility  for  his  own  failure,  or  the 
gentleness  of  his  feeling  for  her.  What  if  the 
loss  of  faith  and  power  which  she  met  in  him 
were  her  own  work,  and  work  not  all  blindly 
wrought,  it  would  still  have  been  impossible  for 
105 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Stephen  to  offer  this  in  his  own  excuse.  To 
captivate,  to  dazzle,  to  lead  whither  she  would, 
was  a  part  of  the  personality  of  this  woman 
whose  life  had  touched  his  in  its  most  impres- 
sible years.  It  had  still  remained  possible  for 
his  Own  nature  to  reject  an  influence  over- 
strong,  to  retain  its  poise,  its  freedom.  If  it 
had  not  done  this,  the  fault  was  in  the  weakness 
of  the  man,  not  in  the  power  of  the  woman. 
This  he  felt  keenly.  And  it  had  been  once  in 
his  hands  to  lead  Stephanie  to  the  life  "  which 
is  the  light  of  men;  "  and  he,  in  what  seemed 
to  him  now  unfathomable  folly,  had,  instead, 
allowed  her  to  lead  him  into  darkness  !  Nothing 
was  left  them  now  but  darkness,  —  now,  when 
her  soul  was  hovering  in  the  borderland,  where 
death's  shadow  falls,  and  his  own  soul  was  fall- 
ing, broken  and  despairing,  upon  the  thorns  of 
life! 

Worn  out  at  last,  Stephen  fell  asleep  at  his 
desk,  an  image  from  the  Inferno  vaguely 
haunting  his  uneasy  sleep,  of  two  troubled 
spirits  flitting,  wailing  and  homeless,  through  an 
endless  darkness. 

On  the  following  Sunday  in  the  Church  of 
All  Good  Spirits  many  persons  in  the  congrega- 
tion observed  the  extreme  pallor  of  the  young 
106 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


pastor  as  he  stood  before  them  in  the  pulpit, 
and  the  very  unusual  languor  of  his  manner. 
There  were  some  who  attributed  these  manifes- 
tations of  suffering  to  the  critical  condition  of 
Stephanie  Loring,  who  was  still  lying,  apparently, 
at  the  gates  of  death.  There  were  none  who 
divined  the  darkness,  deeper  than  any  which 
the  shadow  of  death  could  bring,  in  which  his 
soul  was  wrapped  that  day.  The  subdued 
splendor  of  the  stately  building,  its  impressive 
architecture,  the  richness  of  its  wood-carving 
and  stained  glass,  the  noiseless  footsteps  of  the 
worshippers  as  they  trod  the  thick  carpets  of  the 
aisles,  their  graceful  and  well-bred  devotions, 
the  very  flattery  in  their  faces  as  they  looked  at 
himself,  —  all  these  things  in  which  before  he 
had  found  high  satisfaction  oppressed  him 
unspeakably  to-day. 

Even  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ  jarred 
upon  him ;  and  when  the  quartette,  which  was 
the  pride  of  All  Good  Spirits  and  the  envy  of 
all  other  churches  of  its  order,  produced  a 
classic  selection  with  marvellously  artistic  per- 
fection, he  longed  to  break  the  spellbound 
attention  of  the  people  with  the  rude  discords 
of  which  his  own  soul  was  full. 

Stephen  had  taken,  almost  at  random,  an  old 
107 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


sermon  that  morning.  He  had  hardly  read  it 
through.  Not  until  he  announced  it  did  he 
recognize  the  bitter  irony  of  the  text :  "  Ye  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth  ;  but  if  the  salt  have  lost  its 
savor,  wherewith  shall  it  be  salted?" 


108 


XL 

Out  of  the  place  of  death, 

Out  of  the  cypress  shadow, 
Out  of  sepulchral  earth, 

Dust  that  Calvary  gave, 
Sprang  as  fragrant  of  breath 

As  any  flower  of  the  meadow, 
This,  with  death  in  its  birth, 

Sent  like  speech  from  the  grave. 

So,  in  a  world  of  doubt, 

Love  —  like  a  flower  — 
Blossoms  suddenly  white, 

Suddenly  sweet  and  pure, 
Shedding  a  breath  about 

Of  new,  mysterious  power, 
Lifting  a  hope  in  the  night, 
Not  to  be  told,  but  sure. 

MADAME  DARMESTETER. 

TEPHANIE  will  recover  !  "  This  sen- 
tence was  ringing  through  Stephen 
Castle's  brain  like  bells  of  joy,  as 
he  walked  up  and  down  his  study,  his  haggard 
face  illuminated  again  with  something  of  the 
hope  and  courage  which  had  been  absent  from 
it  for  so  many  days.  Mr.  Loring  -had  just  left 
him,  having  rushed  in,  almost  wild  with  excite- 
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A  Minister  of  the  World 


present  surroundings.  But  all  this  was  impos- 
sible to  Stephen.  No  consideration  of  self, 
however  just  at  other  times,  could  hold  against 
the  instinct  of  a  chivalrous  nature  in  a  crisis 
like  this.  Stephanie's  happiness  was  clouded, 
her  recovery  perhaps  retarded,  by  a  humiliation 
from  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  save  her.  He 
hesitated  no  more  to  throw  himself  into  the 
breach  than  a  knight  of  King  Arthur's  time 
would  have  stopped  to  consider  his  own  safety 
when  called  upon  to  do  battle  for  a  fair  lady. 

Within  an  hour  of  Mr.  Loring's  call,  a  note 
was  on  its  way  to  Stephanie  in  which  Stephen 
Castle  said,  — 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  that  I  do  not  wait,  as  I 
ought,  until  you  are  stronger,  but  that  now,  in  my 
great  joy  that  God  is  giving  you  back  to  us,  I  dare 
to  ask  that  to  me,  more  than  to  all  others,  you  may 
be  given  ? 

"  I  know,  in  some  faint  degree,  I  think,  how 
surpassingly  great  is  the  favor  I  ask.  I  know, 
too,  how  unworthy  I  am  to  ask  it ;  but  all  that  I 
am  or  can  be  is  yours  if  you  will  take  it.  Do  not 
try  to  write  or  to  see  me  until  you  are  quite  strong. 
I  can  be  patient  now." 

A  day  or  two  passed.  There  was  a  great 
storm  at  sea,  with  awful  shipwreck  and  disaster. 

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A  Minister  of  the  World 


Stephen,  restless  and  unable  to  force  himself 
into  any  of  his  wonted  occupations,  left  the  city 
and  went  out  to  a  little  settlement  on  an  ex- 
posed point  of  the  Long  Island  coast,  to  watch 
the  effects  of  the  storm,  and  to  fight,  with  the 
men  of  the  life-saving  station,  for  the  lives 
of  shipwrecked  sailors  who  might  be  washed 
ashore  at  that  point. 

He  found  something  of  relief  in  the  struggle 
of  the  elements :  his  own  personal  conflicts 
were  lost  for  the  time,  and  he  seemed  to  come 
into  touch  with  the  majestic  powers  of  nature, 
which  even  in  their  fiercest  manifestations 
can  quiet  the  fever  and  passion  of  the  human 
heart. 

Returning  late  at  night  to  his  apartment,  he 
found,  in  a  pile  of  letters  waiting  for  him,  not 
the  one  he  half  expected  from  Stephanie,  but 
one  from  Emily  Merle,  asking  him  when  he 
came  to  Thornton  to  bring  her  a  certain  book 
which  she  had  sent  for  in  vain  to  different 
booksellers. 

Stephen  started  to  his  feet  in  consternation. 
Thornton  !  To  be  sure,  he  was  under  engage- 
ment to  go  to  Thornton  the  fifth  of  June  to 
attend  Waldo's  ordination.  The  experiences 
and  excitements  of  the  last  six  weeks  had  en- 
8  113 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


present  surroundings.  But  all  this  was  impos- 
sible to  Stephen.  No  consideration  of  self, 
however  just  at  other  times,  could  hold  against 
the  instinct  of  a  chivalrous  nature  in  a  crisis 
like  this.  Stephanie's  happiness  was  clouded, 
her  recovery  perhaps  retarded,  by  a  humiliation 
from  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  save  her.  He 
hesitated  no  more  to  throw  himself  into  the 
breach  than  a  knight  of  King  Arthur's  time 
would  have  stopped  to  consider  his  own  safety 
when  called  upon  to  do  battle  for  a  fair  lady. 

Within  an  hour  of  Mr.  Loring's  call,  a  note 
was  on  its  way  to  Stephanie  in  which  Stephen 
Castle  said, — 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  that  I  do  not  wait,  as  I 
ought,  until  you  are  stronger,  but  that  now,  in  my 
great  joy  that  God  is  giving  you  back  to  us,  I  dare 
to  ask  that  to  me,  more  than  to  all  others,  you  may 
be  given  ? 

"  I  know,  in  some  faint  degree,  I  think,  how 
surpassingly  great  is  the  favor  I  ask.  I  know, 
too,  how  unworthy  I  am  to  ask  it ;  but  all  that  I 
am  or  can  be  is  yours  if  you  will  take  it.  Do  not 
try  to  write  or  to  see  me  until  you  are  quite  strong. 
I  can  be  patient  now." 

A  day  or  two  passed.  There  was  a  great 
storm  at  sea,  with  awful  shipwreck  and  disaster. 

112 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


Stephen,  restless  and  unable  to  force  himself 
into  any  of  his  wonted  occupations,  left  the  city 
and  went  out  to  a  little  settlement  on  an  ex- 
posed point  of  the  Long  Island  coast,  to  watch 
the  effects  of  the  storm,  and  to  fight,  with  the 
men  of  the  life-saving  station,  for  the  lives 
of  shipwrecked  sailors  who  might  be  washed 
ashore  at  that  point. 

He  found  something  of  relief  in  the  struggle 
of  the  elements :  his  own  personal  conflicts 
were  lost  for  the  time,  and  he  seemed  to  come 
into  touch  with  the  majestic  powers  of  nature, 
which  even  in  their  fiercest  manifestations 
can  quiet  the  fever  and  passion  of  the  human 
heart. 

Returning  late  at  night  to  his  apartment,  he 
found,  in  a  pile  of  letters  waiting  for  him,  not 
the  one  he  half  expected  from  Stephanie,  but 
one  from  Emily  Merle,  asking  him  when  he 
came  to  Thornton  to  bring  her  a  certain  book 
which  she  had  sent  for  in  vain  to  different 
booksellers. 

Stephen  started  to  his  feet  in  consternation. 
Thornton  !  To  be  sure,  he  was  under  engage- 
ment to  go  to  Thornton  the  fifth  of  June  to 
attend  Waldo's  ordination.  The  experiences 
and  excitements  of  the  last  six  weeks  had  en- 
8  113 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


tirely  driven  the  matter  from  his  mind,  and  now 
it  was  the  fourth  of  June.  His  ordination  ser- 
mon had  not  even  been  thought  of,  the  arrange- 
ments for  his  absence  were  not  made,  and  yet 
he  must  start  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing; even  then  it  was  doubtful  whether  he 
could  reach  Thornton,  which  was  not  on  the 
main  line  of  railroad,  the  same  night. 

Stephen  turned  the  leaves  of  his  calendar. 
Yes,  there  was  no  room  for  doubt  in  the  matter ; 
he  had  written  "Thornton"  across  the  spaces 
occupied  by  the  next  three  days.  When  he 
had  written  it,  the  time  had  seemed  far  away. 
How  distinctly  it  all  came  back  to  him  now : 
it  was  the  night  at  Mrs.  Petersham's,  the  night 
he  had  last  seen  Stephanie  Loring  in  health, 
the  evening  he  had  heard  of  Aunt  Eliza's  death. 
There  was  no  time  now  to  be  spent  in  medi- 
tation. He  must  make  ready  for  his  journey. 
Fortunately  the  book  which  Emily  wanted  was 
in  his  own  library.  It  went  first  into  his  grip- 
sack, which  he  at  once  proceeded  to  pack, 
throwing  in  another  book  or  two  to  help  him 
in  working  up  his  sermon,  which  he  must  pre- 
pare on  the  cars.  Then  he  wrote  half  a  dozen 
hasty  notes,  arranging  for  different  appointments 
to  be  met  during  his  absence ;  among  them 
114 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


was  one  to  Lloyd  Petersham,  asking  him  to  ex- 
plain his  sudden  departure  fully  to  the  Lorings, 
and  to  attend  to  the  immediate  forwarding  of 
any  letters  which  might  come  to  him  the  next 
day.  Having  done  all  these  things,  Stephen 
ordered  his  breakfast  for  six  o'clock,  and  lay 
down  for  a  few  hours  of  sleep. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  evening  a  train, 
evidently  impatient  at  the  necessity,  slowed  up 
for  half  a  minute  at  a  little  station  in  a  cut  be- 
tween two  grassy  hills,  and  having  deposited 
a  solitary  passenger  steamed  on  again,  as  if 
eager  to  reach  a  point  of  greater  consequence. 
The  man  who  alighted,  at  the  station  under 
the  hill,  was  Stephen  Castle ;  and,  half  a  mile 
to  the  west,  the  spire  which  rose  against  the  pale 
yellow  sky  where  the  sunset  fires  were  burning 
out,  was  the  spire  of  the  Thornton  church. 

There  was  no  one  there  to  meet  him,  no  one 
at  the  station  but  the  man  who  had  it  in  charge  ; 
and  this  was  what  he  hoped  for  and  what  he 
expected.  Before  he  left  New  York  in  the 
morning  he  had  telegraphed  to  Thornton  that, 
the  connections  being  uncertain,  he  would  spend 
the  night  at  Winchester.  He  did  this  knowing 
that  he  could  join  the  little  party  of  professors 
from  the  Divinity  School  there  who  would 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


doubtless  attend  Waldo's  ordination,  and  with 
them  reach  Thornton  in  time  for  the  morn- 
ing session  of  the  Council.  However,  in  the 
course  of  the  day  he  had  found  that  he  could, 
after  all,  by  availing  himself  of  another  road, 
reach  Thornton  in  the  evening.  The  Ipnging 
to  see  the  place  was  growing  strong  within  him, 
and  to  see  it  in  its  normal  quiet,  before  the  influx 
of  visitors  to  the  ordination  had  transformed  it. 
He  knew  that  some  one  would  give  him  a 
bed ;  and  so  he  came  on,  without  stopping  at 
Winchester. 

Leaving  his  gripsack  with  the  station-master, 
who  recognized  him  and  received  him  with 
manifest  but  silent  enthusiasm,  Stephen  ran  up 
the  long  flight  of  steps  to  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
and  struck  out  on  the  road  which  ran  bet\veen 
clover-fields  up  to  the  village.  It  was  twillight, 
and  the  grassy  path  by  the  roadside  along 
which  he  walked  was  wet  with  dew.  The 
white  farmhouses,  each  with  its  company  of 
barns,  red  or  ochre  or  unpainted  gray,  lay  in 
unbroken  silence,  with  broad  meadows  and 
orchards  between.  The  air  was  pure  as  crystal, 
and  sweet  with  the  breath  of  many  blossoms. 
How  still  it  was  !  His  own  footsteps  were  the 
only  sound  except  the  ripple  of  the  brook  as 
116 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


it  ran  beside  the  road  and  under  the  old  bridge. 
The  clear  water  broke  in  shallow  cascades  over 
the  red- brown  stones,  just  as  it  used  in  the 
sweet  old  time  when  he  was  wont  to  come  there 
Saturday  afternoons  for  the  rest  and  cooling  of 
its  music.  And  the  man,  the  boy  rather,  eager 
and  free-hearted,  who  used  to  linger  there  was 
himself,  Stephen  Castle,  who  now  stood  on  the 
little  bridge,  with  care  and  pain  and  a  bitter 
sense  of  failure  ever  with  him.  Of  course  there 
came  the  longing  to  break  away  from  his  pres- 
ent conditions  and  take  refuge  in  a  haven  of 
peace  like  this,  but  as  inevitable  was  the  recog- 
nition that  this  was  impossible  as  well  as  useless. 
The  time  for  peace  and  repose  in  his  life  was 
over,  until  old  age  should  bring  it  back  per- 
chance ;  he  was  in  the  years  of  conflict  now, 
and  must  endure  hardness  as  a  soldier. 

Stephen  left  the  bridge  and  passed  on  by 
the  familiar  path.  He  had  reached  a  farm- 
house now  where  he  had  always  been  a  welcome 
guest.  He  noticed  with  a  smile  of  pleasure, 
as  he  passed  the  hayfields,  that  the  crop  was 
large  and  fine.  The  old  satisfaction  which  he 
used  to  share  with  the  Thornton  people  in  "  a 
good  year  "  came  back  to  him.  No  one  was 
in  sight  about  the  house.  He  was  glad  and 
117 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


sorry  too.  He  was  not  quite  ready  yet  to 
meet  his  Thornton  friends,  and  yet  he  longed 
for  such  an  old-fashioned  grasp  of  the  hand  as 
he  knew  was  ready  for  him.  Up  the  hill  now 
and  past  the  parsonage  ;  but  the  dusk  was  deep- 
ening, and  the  house  could  hardly  be  seen  among 
its  vines  and  bushes  of  lilac  and  syringa.  There 
was  a  light  in  the  middle  room.  Stephen  sup- 
posed Waldo  was  there.  He  wondered  if  he 
were  to  be  married,  or  whether  he  would  live 
with  a  sister  or  with  his  mother,  as  he  had  done. 
The  fragrance  of  the  locust  blossoms,  high  in 
the  dark  above  his  head,  came  to  him  with  the 
mysterious  power  over  memory  which  odors 
possess.  All  his  life  in  the  little  parsonage,  his 
mother  and  her  love  and  devotion,  came  before 
him  with  overmastering  power,  and  his  tears 
flowed  unchecked.  He  leaned  for  a  moment 
on  the  parsonage  gate.  He  had  thus  far  met 
not  a  single  person  ;  but  a  boy  was  coming  down 
the  gravel  walk  from  the  direction  of  the  post- 
office  now,  and  Stephen  stood  aside  to  let  him 
pass. 

He  was  not  ready  yet  to  go  into  the  parson- 
age, and  find  Waldo,  and  explain  his  presence 
in  Thornton  to-night.     He  would  rather   walk 
on.     A  few  steps  more  and  he  saw  a  faint  light 
118 


As  the  light  of  the  lamp  struck  upward  on  her  face, 
he  recognized  Emily  Merle. 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


shining  through  the  windows  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  church.  Perhaps  he  could  slip  in 
unobserved  and  have  a  few  moments  alone  in 
the  stillness  there  to  calm  and  collect  himself. 
The  door  was  closed,  but  opened  readily  when 
he  tried  it ;  and  he  found  no  one  in  the  narrow 
vestibule,  which  was  unlighted.  He  knew  his 
way  well,  and  in  a  moment  had  climbed  the 
steep  stairs  to  the  choir  gallery,  the  door  of 
which  he  cautiously  opened.  The  church  was 
dark  except  for  one  lamp  on  the  communion 
table  at  the  opposite  end.  Unseen,  he  entered 
the  gallery  and  sat  down  in  the  shadow  of  the 
organ. 

At  first  he  thought  there  might  be  no  one 
in  the  building  but  himself;  but  an  instant  later 
he  perceived  that  a  woman's  form  was  bending 
over  some  jars  of  flowers  near  the  pulpit,  and 
suddenly,  as  she  lifted  her  head  and  the  light 
of  the  lamp  struck  upward  on  her  face,  he 
recognized  Emily  Merle.  His  heart  gave  a 
great  leap  of  joy,  and  a  strange  warmth  and 
comfort  and  release  from  pain  seemed  to  flow 
through  his  consciousness.  What  power  of 
healing  and  uplift  lay  in  a  womanhood  so  strong 
and  steadfast,  —  in  a  nature  which  had  never 
spent  itself  on  the  semblances  of  life,  but  had 
119 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


had  to  do  with  its  truths !  Like  a  cooling 
draught  in  his  fever  and  pain,  Stephen  felt  the 
girl's  presence.  What  would  have  befallen  her 
in  "  the  great  world,"  as  they  called  it,  —  the 
world  in  which  he  had  lost  his  path  and  his 
purpose  full  soon?  Was  it  only  the  accident 
of  environment  which  had  made  Emily  Merle 
what  she  was?  No,  Stephen  made  answer  to 
himself:  the  high  integrity  of  her  spiritual  life 
would  have  stood  the  proof,  as  his,  too,  might 
have  done,  for  the  stern  word  of  the  great 
moralist  came  back  to  him  in  the  silence  :  "  It 
always  remains  true  that  if  we  had  been  greater, 
circumstances  would  have  been  less  strong 
against  us." 

She  was  busy  with  flowers  and  ferns,  and 
moved  about  quietly,  but  with  evident  absorp- 
tion in  her  work,  sometimes  stepping  back  a 
few  paces  to  note  the  effect,  then  returning  to 
lift  a  vine  or  turn  a  flower  with  dainty  touch. 
All  her  attitudes  were  unconsciously  graceful, 
and  there  was  a  sweet  seriousness  in  her  face, 
and  a  womanly  dignity  in  her  bearing  which 
Stephen  had  never  recognized  as  he  did  now. 

He  heard  a  door  below  him  swing  after  a 
moment,  and  Emily's  voice  called,  — 

"Did  you  find  them?" 
1 20 


A  Minister  of  tbe  World 


"  Yes,  there  were  plenty,  and  very  good 
ones."  The  two  voices  reverberated  strangely 
through  the  empty  church. 

A  young  girl  now  came  into  the  circle  of 
light  around  the  pulpit,  and  Stephen  saw  that 
her  hands  were  full  of  tall  ferns,  which  she  gave 
to  Emily. 

Five,  ten  minutes  passed  as  if  in  a  dream  to 
Stephen  alone  in  his  shadowed  place,  and  mem- 
ories of  his  youthful  ministry  clustered  close 
about  him.  The  dark  church  with  its  one 
little  circle  of  light,  which  seemed  strangely  far 
away,  the  grotesque  shadows  cast  by  the  single 
lamp,  the  quiet  voices  and  movements  of  the 
two  girls  as  they  handled  the  ferns  whose 
shadows  were  like  trees  as  they  flitted  across 
the  walls,  all  made  up  an  impression  of  un- 
reality, and  he  ceased  to  know  or  care  where 
he  was  or  why  he  was  there.  Presently  he 
heard  a  voice  say,  — 

"  I  wonder  if  he  will  be  the  same." 

It  was  Emily  Merle's  voice  which  answered, 

"  No,  he  is  not  the  same." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  has  grown  proud 
and  will  look  down  upon  people  like  us?"  the 
voice  asked  again. 

"  No,  not  that ;  he  could  never  be  like  that. 
121 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


His  heart  is  as  true  as  steel.  You  will  find  him 
kinder  than  ever,  and  interested  in  us  as  he 
used  to  be.  But,  after  all,  it  is  different." 
There  was  a  little  silence,  and  then  Emily  Merle 
added. — 

"  He  does  not  belong  to  us  any  more,  you 
see,  and  he  never  can  again." 

Stephen  was  awake  now,  and  alive  to  the 
fact  that  it  was  he  of  whom  they  were  speaking. 
Was  it  the  distance,  or  was  he  right  in  thinking 
that  there  was  a  pathetic  note  in  Emily's  voice, 
an  undertone  of  sadness  ?  An  impulse  he  could 
hardly  control  swept  over  him  to  go  to  her  that 
moment,  and  look  into  her  face,  and  tell  her 
that  he  did  belong  to  her,  and  to  her  only.  He 
knew  it  now,  and  understood  what  had  kept  him 
all  these  years  from  other  love.  Then,  even  as 
he  had  risen  impulsively  and  stood  in  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  gallery  as  if  doubting  what  to 
do,  a  sudden  recollection  came  to  him,  and 
noiselessly  as  he  had  entered  it,  he  left  the 
church  and  came  out  alone  into  the  summer 
night. 

He  had,  until  that  moment,  forgotten 
Stephanie. 


122 


XII. 

The  world's  infections  ;  few  bring  back  at  eve, 
Immaculate,  the  manners  of  the  morn. 
Something  we  thought,  is  blotted  ;  we  resolved, 
Is  shaken  ;  we  renounced,  returns  again. 

YOUNG. 

5,  Waldo,  you  will  find  them  a  loyal, 
united  people,  unless  they  have  greatly 
changed  in  the  years  since  I  left  here, 
—  a  good  people  to  work  with,  and  Thornton 
is  a  good  place  if  you  want  to  study." 

It  was  Stephen  Castle  speaking.  He  and 
Waldo  were  sitting  at  a  bare,  round  table  on 
which  stood  a  small  lamp  in  the  midst  of  a 
variety  of  miscellaneous  articles.  They  were  in 
the  sitting-room  of  the  Thornton  parsonage, 
which  was  a  scene  of  the  complete  confusion 
incident  to  the  early  stage  of  settling  a  new  home. 
In  the  little  room  which  had  formerly  been 
Stephen's  study,  there  stood  an  old-fashioned 
sofa  of  liberal  size,  on  which  he  was  to  sleep, 
while  Waldo  would  make  a  bed  for  himself  on 
the  parlor  floor.  Stephen  had  been  in  the  house 
123 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


for  half  an  hour,  and  it  had  taken  nearly  all  that 
time  to  reconcile  with  Waldo's  overflowing  hos- 
pitality his  objections  to  letting  so  distinguished 
a  guest  share  such  poor  accommodations  as 
were  just  now  at  his  disposal.  He  had  pro- 
posed to  take  Stephen  to  the  farmhouse  where 
he  was  expected  to  stay  the  following  night ;  but 
Stephen  begged  so  earnestly  for  the  favor  of 
sleeping  one  night  under  the  parsonage  roof 
that  Waldo  yielded,  although  with  many  mis- 
givings. They  were  now  spending  an  hour  in 
discussing  Thornton  and  Waldo's  prospects  in 
his  first  field  of  labor,  the  younger  man  listen- 
ing to  Stephen's  words  as  if  each  one  were  of 
profoundest  weight.  He  was  a  short,  slender 
fellow,  Waldo,  with  straight  black  hair  and  dark 
eyes,  a  thoughtful  face,  and  a  way  of  speaking 
which  gave  an  impression  of  almost  intense 
sincerity. 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  shall  be  happy  here,"  he 
remarked  now,  in  response  to  Stephen's  words. 
"  Nelson,  you  know,  who  followed  you,  had  a 
very  good  pastorate  here.  He  is  abroad  now, 
studying." 

"  Yes,  I  have  kept  track  of  his  movements. 
He  is  a  good  fellow.  He  had  a  family,  I  be- 
lieve, had  he  not?" 

124 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Yes,  a  wife  and  one  child.  The  parsonage 
has  not  been  used  since  they  left." 

"  How  is  it  with  you,  Waldo  ?  Are  you 
going  to  housekeeping?  These  preparations 
look  like  it,"  Stephen  remarked  pleasantly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  other,  smiling  brightly, 
"  my  sister  is  coming  next  week  to  take  care  of 
me.  I  have  no  prospect  of  anything  further 
than  that,  Mr.  Castle,  at  present." 

For  a  moment  Stephen  thought  of  Emily 
Merle  over  there  in  the  church  at  work  among 
the  flowers,  and  a  vision  of  what  might  be  filled 
him  with  an  almost  fierce  desire  to  thwart  such 
a  possibility ;  but  he  only  said  half  carelessly  : 

"  There  is  plenty  of  time  for  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  One  thing  at  a  time.  A  man's  ordina- 
tion is  enough  of  an  event  for  one  year." 

"Is  it  not,  indeed?"  cried  Waldo,  an  ex- 
pression of  something  like  awe  coming  into  his 
face.  "  This  is  my  last  night  before  it,  you 
know,  and  I  am  sure  you  understand  what  my 
feeling  must  be.  It  seems  so  glorious  a  privi- 
lege, in  one  way,  to  be  dedicated  to  the  one 
single  life  work,  to  belong  solely  to  Christ  and 
to  carrying  His  message ;  but  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  almost  appalling  to  me.  The 
responsibility  seems  so  enormous,  the  fear  that 

I25 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


the  consecration  may  not  be  complete  comes 
continually.  Were  you  ever  troubled  in  such  a 
way,  Mr.  Castle?"  and  the  young  man  looked 
appealingly  into  Stephen's  eyes. 

The  latter  could  only  bow  his  head. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  presuming  of  me  to  ask 
such  questions  of  a  man  like  you,  who  are  so 
far  beyond  me  in  every  way,"  Waldo  continued 
diffidently ;  "  I  know  it  must  seem  weak  and 
cowardly  to  you.  It  is  not  that  I  fear  that  too 
much  is  exacted  of  outward  sacrifice  and  all 
that.  I  think  I  need  not  say  that  I  have 
counted  the  cost,  and  have  left  all.  I  do  not 
even  feel  this  part  to  be  a  sacrifice.  It  does 
not  seem  as  if  death  itself  for  Him  would  be 
hard,"  and  as  he  spoke  the  earnestness  of  the 
young  face  witnessed  to  his  sincerity,  and 
Stephen  found  it  hard  to  meet  his  look ;  "  but 
what  I  feel  is  my  own  unworthiness  to  enter  so 
high  a  calling  :  the  danger  that  I  may  bring  re- 
proach upon  His  name,  even,"  and  his  voice 
fell  and  his  face  clouded,  "that  I  might  at 
heart  seek  myself  in  my  work,  instead  of  His 
will  and  the  uplifting  of  men." 

Stephen  murmured  a  half- articulate  response, 
for  Waldo's  words  were  like  a  sword  piercing 
his  soul. 

126 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Mr.  Castle,"  the  young  man  asked  humbly, 
"you  have  gone  far  beyond  me  in  knowledge 
and  experience.  I  know  through  the  people 
here  how  exalted  your  spiritual  life  has  always 
been.  May  I  ask  you,  because  you  are  past 
dangers  and  temptations  like  these,  to  pray  for 
me,  that  I  may  be  saved  from  them,  weak  as  I 
know  myself  to  be  ?  " 

Stephen  could  not  meet  a  request  like  this 
with  mere  assent.  He  was  honest.  Rising 
from  the  table,  he  held  out  his  hand  and  took 
that  of  Waldo,  who  saw  with  surprise  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face. 

"  I  will  pray  for  you,  my  dear  fellow,  you 
may  be  sure.  The  dangers  you  speak  of  are 
real  dangers.  I  have  met  them,  and  the  victory 
has  not  always  been  mine,  as  you  suppose. 
Good-night !  I  believe  I  am  tired ;  "  and  he 
took  the  candle  which  was  ready  for  him,  and 
abruptly  went  to  his  room. 

Waldo,  left  to  himself,  reflected  that  this 
abruptness  was,  perhaps,  a  touch  of  the  grand 
seigneur  manner  which  one  must  expect  in  suc- 
cessful men,  but  of  which  he  had  until  now  seen 
nothing  in  Mr.  Castle,  and  himself  made  ready 
for  the  night. 

It  was  the  following  evening,  and  the  Thorn- 
127 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


ton  church  was  crowded  to  the  doors.  From 
all  the  country  side  the  farmers'  families  had 
driven  over  to  the  ordination  ceremonies,  and 
even  more  especially  to  hear  Stephen  Castle 
preach.  He  had  been  a  favorite  among  church- 
going  people  far  and  wide,  when  he  was  the 
young  pastor  in  Thornton  ;  now  he  had  become 
a  noted  city  preacher,  and  great  was  the  curi- 
osity to  see  and  hear  him.  From  Pembroke 
and  all  the  neighboring  villages,  large  numbers 
of  the  clergy  and  more  prominent  laity  had 
come ;  and  Winchester  had  contributed  its 
delegation  of  theologians,  who  with  their  grave 
and  dignified  presence  had  lent  impressiveness 
to  the  exercises  of  the  day. 

The  order  of  the  evening  was  the  formal  con- 
secration of  the  candidate,  young  Waldo,  to  the 
ministry  of  Christ,  by  the  laying  on  of  hands. 
After  this  ceremony,  noble  and  affecting  in  its 
simplicity,  Stephen  Castle  was  to  preach. 

His  whole  environment  was  surcharged  with 
suggestions  of  his  past.  Around  him  sat  the 
venerable  professors  from  Winchester,  under 
whose  training  his  own  preparation  for  the 
ministry  had  been  made,  and  a  number  of 
clergymen  who  had  been  his  friends  in  the 
days  of  his  Thornton  pastorate,  stalwart  men 
128 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


with  manly  faces.  At  his  right,  and  so  near 
that  his  hand  could  have  touched  him,  was 
Waldo,  with  the  high  consecration  of  the  hour 
visible  in  his  face,  a  face  made  strangely  beau- 
tiful by  the  man's  spirit.  In  him  Stephen 
seemed  to  see  his  own  former  self,  before  he 
had  been  forced  to  "travel  daily  farther  from 
the  east,"  and  to  see  the  "  vision  splendid  "  of  his 
youth  "  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day." 

Before  him,  among  the  solid  mass  of  men 
and  women  whose  faces  were  turned  expect- 
antly to  him,  were  his  old  friends,  true  and 
tried ;  plain,  simple-hearted  folk  who  had  faith- 
fully loved  him,  and  loved  and  honored  him 
still,  far,  he  felt,  beyond  his  due.  Almost  hid- 
den by  the  bowers  of  greenery  which  her  hands 
had  fashioned  in  the  spaces  at  the  side  of  the 
pulpit,  to  conceal  the  bareness  of  the  walls,  sat 
Emily  Merle. 


129 


XIII. 

Though  them  loved  her  as  thyself, 

As  a  self  of  purer  clay, 

Though  her  parting  dims  the  day, 

Stealing  grace  from  all  alive ; 

Heartily  know, 

When  half-gods  go, 

The  gods  arrive.  EMERSON. 

JS  he  stood,  during  the  singing  of  "  Coro- 
nation "  which  preceded  the  sermon, 
Stephen  had  looked  at  Emily,  whom 
he  had  hardly  been  able  to  speak  with  all 
through  the  day,  and  in  a  strange  flash  of  imagi- 
nation or  perception,  he  hardly  knew  which  it 
might  be,  the  personality  of  Stephanie  Loring 
came  before  him,  as  if  the  two  women  stood  to- 
gether in  his  sight,  and  in  themselves  showed 
forth  the  two  influences  which  had  ruled  his 
life.  Both  were  beautiful,  both  corresponded 
to  powerful  instincts  of  his  nature,  but  how 
widely  they  differed  !  In  Stephanie,  Stephen 
saw  a  full  and  perfect  manifestation  —  in  its 
relation  to  personality  —  of  art ;  while  in  Emily 
was  as  clear  an  embodiment  of  truth. 
130 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


With  Stephanie,  all  the  natural  resources  of 
life  were  means  adapted  to  an  end,  and  that 
end,  beauty,  harmony,  delight,  —  a  fair  end  and 
well  attained,  —  the  proper  aim  of  art.  Art 
was  in  her  face,  in  her  voice,  in  her  conversa- 
tion, her  motions,  her  dress,  her  intellectual 
activities ;  in  fine,  in  all  that  belonged  to  her 
and  that  surrounded  her.  And  in  that  expres- 
sion of  harmony  and  beauty  he  had  found 
pleasure  of  a  high  quality ;  but  the  one  thing 
which  he  had  failed  to  find  was  satisfaction. 

In  "Emily  Merle,  Stephen  recognized  the  very 
opposite  type  of  womanhood.  Truth  was  the 
vital  principle,  the  ruling  force  in  her  nature 
and  in  her  life.  Not  truth  in  cold,  bare  out- 
lines, but  made  warm  and  radiant  by  a  loving, 
womanly  nature,  endued  with  an  endless  capa- 
city for  giving  itself  for  others.  As  certain  ele- 
ments in  his  own  nature  had  leaped  to  meet 
the  wonderful  charm  of  Stephanie,  when  he 
saw  her  first  in  his  boyish  inexperience,  so  now, 
but  with  far  greater  power,  did  other  and  deeper 
elements  rise  to  the  sense  of  beauty  in  the 
character  of  Emily  Merle.  But  Stephen  held 
himself  in  hand.  The  thought  of  Stephanie 
was  always  with  him  now,  and  he  knew  himself 
to  be  pledged  to  her,  and  no  longer  free  to 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


yield  to  the  influence  of  another  woman.  He 
could  not  regret  the  step  which  he  had  taken, 
it  had  belonged  to  the  very  nature  of  things, 
but  he  saw  in  the  life  before  him  hopeless 
confusion. 

Aroused  from  the  condition  of  intense  intro- 
spection into  which  he  had  fallen,  by  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  music  and  the  rustle  of  garments  as 
the  congregation  resumed  their  seats,  Stephen 
came  forward,  a  hush  of  eager  expectancy  per- 
vading the  house. 

The  text  which  he  announced  consisted  of 
but  three  words  :  "  Who  emptied  Himself."  It 
was  not  the  text  which  he  had  selected  the  day 
before  on  his  journey  to  Thornton,  nor  the  ser- 
mon which  he  had  then  elaborated  out  of  philo- 
sophical and  poetical  elements,  after  his  present 
method  of  sermon  making,  and  with  perhaps 
more  thought  for  the  Doctors  of  Divinity  who 
would  hear  him  than  for  the  rustic  folk  of  his 
old  church.  In  the  preceding  night,  after  his 
interview  with  Waldo,  Stephen  had  found  that 
to  preach  that  sermon  had  become  an  impossi- 
bility. A  profound  desire  had  taken  possession 
of  him  to  fling  aside  forever  the  artificial  meth- 
ods, in  which  the  aesthetic  and  the  literary  pre- 
dominated, and  to  return  to  the  simple  preaching 
132 


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of  a  simple  gospel.  And  to-night  he  did  it. 
More  than  to  others  he  was  preaching  to  him- 
self, with  searching  and  deliberate  directness. 

The  country  people,  who  were  awaiting  a 
brilliant  display  of  rhetoric,  and  dramatic  ora- 
tory, listened  at  first  with  a  distinct  sense  of 
disappointment.  The  learned  men  around  him 
praised  him  in  their  hearts  for  the  restraint  and 
simplicity  of  his  speech,  realizing  the  temptation 
to  sacrifice  these  to  the  desire  to  produce  a 
strong  personal  impression.  But  as  Stephen 
approached  the  close  of  his  sermon,  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  one  class  and  the  approval  of 
the  other  were  alike  forgotten  in  the  overmas- 
tering power  of  his  utterance.  Never  before 
had  he  spoken  as  he  spoke  to-night ;  perhaps 
never  would  he  again,  for  this  was  the  supreme 
hour  of  crisis  in  his  life,  the  flood-tide  of  his 
experience.  All  the  despair,  the  remorse,  and 
the  humiliation  which  in  the  past  weeks  he 
had  suffered ;  all  the  conflict  and  battle  he 
had  waged  with  the  baser  elements  of  his  own 
soul;  all  the  profound  sorrow  with  which  he 
mourned  his  failure,  and  his  sharp  condemna- 
tion of  the  unconscious  selfishness  of  his  pur- 
poses ;  all  his  fresh  aspiration  for  purer  service 
and  a  single  aim,  —  were  fused  into  the  solemn 
133 


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envelope  was  large  and  square,  and  bore  a  crest 
upon  the  seal.  The  handwriting  of  the  address 
was  altered  by  physical  weakness,  but  he  knew 
it  to  be  that  of  Stephanie.  Excusing  himself 
to  his  friends,  he  left  the  church  as  quickly  as 
he  could,  but  not  before  Emily  Merle  had  seen 
that  he  had  grown  white  to  the  lips. 


136 


XIV. 

We  must  learn  to  look  upon  life  as  an  apprenticeship  to  a 
progressive  renunciation,  a  perpetual  diminution  in  our  pre- 
tensions, our  hopes,  our  powers,  and  our  liberty.  The  circle 
grows  narrower  and  narrower;  we  began  with  being  eager  to 
learn  everything,  to  see  everything,  to  tame  and  conquer  every- 
thing, and  in  all  directions  we  reach  our  limit  —  non  plus 
ultra.  .  .  .  We  have  to  make  ourselves  small  and  humble,  to 
submit  to  feel  ourselves  limited,  feeble,  dependent,  ignorant, 
and  poor,  and  to  throw  ourselves  upon  God  for  all.  ...  It  is 
in  this  nothingness  that  we  recover  something  of  life,  —  the 
divine  spark  is  there  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Resignation  comes 
to  us,  and  in  believing  love  we  reconquer  the  true  greatness. 

AMIEL. 

OU  are  noble  and  knightlike,  and  I  rev- 
erence you.  My  heart  thanks  you  for 
what  you  offer,  but  it  is  not  to  be. 
Your  love  would  be  loyal,  but  it  would  be  cold 
forever,  for  it  is  not  possible  for  a  nature  like  yours 
to  respond  fully  to  mine. 

"  Let  us  be  satisfied.  It  is  much  to  have  known 
each  other. 

"  I  am  stronger,  and  shall  sail  soon  for  a  Medi- 
terranean port.  I  may  be  away  a  year.  When  I 
return  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again.  Till  then, 
good-by. 

"STEPHANIE." 
137 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


This  was  the  letter  which  Stephen  Castle 
opened  and  read,  when,  after  repeated  delays, 
he  at  last  gained  the  seclusion  of  the  best  bed- 
room of  the  farmhouse  where  he  was  to  spend 
the  night. 

His  tears  fell  upon  the  sheet  as  he  read.  She 
was  wise,  his  beautiful,  clear-eyed  friend.  His 
heart  justified  her  words,  but  it  ached  for  the 
sharp  break  which  they  commanded,  and  for  the 
sense,  which  can  never  come  to  a  human  heart 
without  pain,  that  "  the  old  order  changeth." 

Stephen  read  the  letter  over  the  second  time 
and  the  third,  and  reverently  kissed  the  name 
"Stephanie"  at  the  close;  then,  no  less  rever- 
ently and  tenderly,  he  held  the  folded  sheet  in 
the  flame  of  his  candle,  until  it  turned  to  a  film 
of  ashes  and  crumbled  from  his  fingers  into 
dust.  As  he  watched  the  paper  shrivel  and  fall, 
Stephen  felt,  rather  than  promised,  that  no 
human  being  should  ever  learn  from  him  this 
phase  of  the  relation  between  himself  and 
Stephanie.  They  had  been  good  friends, 
nothing  more. 

The  next  morning  he  met  Emily  Merle  before 
the  church  (he  was  not  inclined  to  hurry  away 
from  Thornton  as  he  would  have  been  before 
receiving  Stephanie's  letter),  and  said,  - 
138 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


•  "  There  is  a  walk  that  you  and  I  must  take 
together,  Emily.  Let  us  go  now." 

"Where  is  it?  To  the  Hollow  Rocks? 
That  used  to  be  your  favorite  walk,  I  remem- 
ber," Emily  responded.  She  was  looking  as 
bright  and  radiant  as  the  June  morning,  as  she 
stood  under  the  old  maple-trees  which  guarded 
the  church. 

"  Yes,  you  ever-superior  young  woman.  With 
your  usual  discernment,  you  have  dived  into 
the  recesses  of  my  being  and  dragged  out  its 
profoundest  intentions ; "  and  they  walked  on 
through  the  village  street,  talking  gayly,  Emily 
giving  an  unspoken  consent  to  Stephen's  wish. 
Her  hands  were  full  of  flowers,  still  fresh,  from 
the  decorations  of  the  church,  which  she  told 
him  she  must  take  to  two  or  three  house-bound 
old  women  who  had  been  unable  to  share  in 
the  great  event  of  yesterday. 

"  You  are  still  the  guardian  angel  of  the 
parish,  I  see,  Emily,"  Stephen  said,  as  he  took 
a  basket  of  roses  from  her  hand.  "  I  will  go 
with  you  and  see  the  poor  old  bodies.  Per- 
haps they  will  still  remember  me." 

"  Remember  you  !  Why,  they  talk  of  you  as 
if  you  were  next  of  kin  to  the  angels.  You  can- 
not understand,  Mr.  Castle,  how  our  Thornton 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


people  adore  you.  I  am  sure  I  don't  see  why 
they  should,"  Emily  added  mischievously. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  to  be  disrespectful, 
I  see,"  laughed  Stephen ;  "  and  you  just  now 
transgressed  a  plain  compact  which  exists  be- 
tween us  when  you  called  me  Mr.  Castle. 
Please  do  not  let  it  occur  again,  as  the  pro- 
fessors used  to  say  to  us  in  college  after  we  had 
committed  some  undergraduate  crime." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Emily,  in  her  firm,  clear- 
cut  fashion  of  speech,  which  in  its  freedom  from 
consciousness  Stephen  found  peculiarly  pleasing. 
"  But  I  started  to  say  that  it  is  so  unreasonably 
hard  for  these  men  to  follow  you  here  in  Thorn- 
ton. No  matter  how  faithful  a  man  may  be,  or 
how  well  he  may  preach,  the  people  simply 
say,  '  But  he  is  not  Elder  Castle  ! '  and  the  poor 
man  is  condemned,  —  as  if  he  wanted  to  be 
Elder  Castle,  or  could  be  if  he  would  !  " 

"  But  Waldo,  it  is  different  with  him  ?  I  am 
sure  the  people  have  taken  him  into  their 
hearts,  as  they  ought  to.  He  is  a  thoroughly 
fine  fellow.  Don't  you  think  so,  Emily?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  but  still  —  he  is  not  Elder 

Castle  !  "  and  with  a  bright  color  in  her  cheeks 

Emily  looked  up  archly  at  Stephen,  and  they 

laughed  together,  the  spontaneous  laughter  of 

140 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


two  persons  who  find  perfect  content  in  each 
other's  presence. 

They  had  reached  the  first  cottage  now  where 
Emily's  flowers  were  to  be  delivered,  and  so 
went  in  together  and  sat  for  a  few  moments  in 
the  dull,  low-ceiled  room  which  their  presence 
seemed  almost  miraculously  to  brighten  to  its 
pain-worn  inmate.  Other  calls  followed,  and 
the  dew  was  off  the  grass,  and  the  sun  high, 
and  the  shade  refreshing,  when  they  reached 
the  cool  recesses  of  the  glen  known  as  the 
"  Hollow  Rocks,"  where  the  Thornton  River 
pauses  in  its  noisy  course  to  fill  a  silent  pool, 
shut  in  by  pine-trees  and  great  masses  of  mossy 
rock. 

It  had  been  a  favorite  place  with  Stephen 
when  he  lived  in  Thornton,  and  he  threw  him- 
self upon  the  gray  old  boulder  which  had  been 
his  especial  resting-place  in  those  days,  with  a 
sigh  of  satisfaction,  while  Emily  found  a  niche 
in  the  rock  just  above  him,  where  she  made 
herself  comfortable. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  little  friend,  I  begin  to 
believe  that  there  is  something  in  the  Antaeus 
myth,  as  there  usually  is  in  the  fables  of  those 
old  Greeks?  I  am  willing  to  assert  that  there 
is  positive  virtue  in  this  contact  with  the  earth, 
141 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


and,  by  the  same  token,  with  primitive  forces 
in  other  kinds." 

"  Primitive  folks,  for  instance  !" 

"  Yes,  primitive  folks,  too,  if  you  please,  like 
Emily  Merle."  Then,  with  a  sudden  gravity 
which  she  found  by  a  glance  in  his  face  was  not 
assumed,  he  continued  half  musingly,  — 

"  Would  it  surprise  you,  I  wonder,  to  know 
how  much  I  have  needed  a  renewal  of  strength  ? 
Perhaps  you  did  not  know  that  I  have  been 
a  melancholy  failure  as  pastor  of  All  Good 
Spirits?" 

"  No  !  I  supposed  you  had  been  a  brilliant 
success." 

"Ah,  Emily,  I  beg  you  never  to  use  those 
words  again  of  me  or  of  any  other  Christian 
minister !  They  are  not  according  to  your 
own  thought.  You  have  borrowed  them  from 
the  phraseology  which  belongs  to  a  special 
modern  misconception  of  the  ministry.  To  be 
brilliant,  that  is,  to  make  yourself  felt  to  your 
last  reserves,  and  as  much  more  as  you  can 
borrow ;  to  be  successful,  that  is,  to  have 
crowds  come  to  hear  you  and  praise  you  and 
dine  you  and  wine  you  and  flatter  you,  —  that  is 
the_/£«  de  siecle  ideal  of  success  in  the  ministry  of 
Christ  with  a  large  class  of  church-going  people." 
142 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  Oh,  but  no,  Stephen  !  I  cannot  believe 
that  is  true." 

"  Naturally  you  cannot,  and  it  is  not  true  of 
the  church  at  large.  Do  not  misunderstand 
me.  I  only  tell  you  what  I  know  to  be  true  in 
certain  circles,  and  I  know  of  what  I  speak  only 
too  well.  The  result  is,  the  man  becomes  at 
heart  an  egoist.  Either  this,  or  he  is  truly 
great,  —  greater  than  I  can  ever  be ; "  and  Emily 
saw  with  keen  sympathy  the  unfeigned  sadness 
and  humility  in  Stephen's  face.  She  could  not 
reply,  and  he  went  on,  — 

"  Such  a  man  as  I  speak  of  is  simply  a  man 
of  the  world,  in  a  good  sense  of  course.  Art, 
fashion,  society,  music,  the  drama,  the  latest 
literature  of  all  nations,  philosophy,  poetry, 
economics,  politics,  —  all  these  and  all  else  that 
goes  to  make  up  the  life  of  the  world,  he  must 
know  and  use.  The  old  word  of  Paul,  'I 
determined  not  to  know  anything  among  you 
save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified,'  is  trans- 
lated sometimes  in  the  church  of  to-day,  as 
the  motto  for  its  leader,  '  I  determined  to  know 
everything  among  you  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him 
crucified.'  " 

"  Did  you  comprehend  this  in  the  beginning 
of  your  pastorate  of  All  Good  Spirits?" 
143 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  In  part ;  and  I  went  in  to  win.  I  felt 
myself  strong,  and  even  longed,  in  a  way,  to  try 
my  strength.  My  thought  was  to  make  the 
church  over,  to  purify  and  exalt  it." 

"But  you  found  it  impossible?" 

"  For  a  man  of  my  temperament,  hopelessly 
so.  It  was  I  who  was  made  over,  Emily,  until 
I  became  altogether  such  as  the  rest.  Prac- 
tically our  church  life  is  an  elevated  form  of 
club  life,  in  which  the  moral  and  intellectual 
and  aesthetic  lines  are  cultivated,  and  the 
members  are  held  together  by  a  kind  of 
social  cohesion,  awfully  unlike  the  sweet  old 
notion  of  fellowship  in  Christ." 

"  But,  Stephen,  you  must  have  gained  some- 
thing from  this  experience.  The  time  cannot 
have  been  all  lost,  nor  the  effort." 

"That  is  true.  In  certain  ways  I  have 
gained  much.  I  have  learned,  what  I  should 
never  have  learned  elsewhere,  to  have  sympathy 
for  the  peculiar  temptations  and  characteristics 
of  the  fashionable  and  aristocratic  class  which 
belongs  to  our  modern  civilization  just  as  it  has 
to  every  other.  Undoubtedly  it  is  in  the  divine 
economy  that  this  leisure  class  should  exist,  if  for 
nothing  else,  to  furnish  employment  for  the  strata 
below  it  by  the  multitude  of  its  artificial  needs." 
144 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  But  there  are  lovely  people  among  them, 
—  people  like  Miss  Loring,  for  instance." 

"Yes,  I  have  found  many  unselfish  and 
noble  spirits  in  my  church,  as  far  as  their  per- 
sonal qualities  are  concerned,  —  persons  of 
exquisite  fibre.  But  after  all  it  is  hot-house  life. 
They  are  like  exotics.  Their  development  is 
not  along  natural  lines.  Their  needs  are  arti- 
ficial ;  their  outlook  upon  life  and  its  demands 
is  utterly  unreal.  They  see  it  all  as  through  a 
colored  light.  Almost  unconsciously  they  come 
to  feel  that  the  world  exists  for  them ;  not  they 
for  the  world  and  its  needs,  according  to  the 
Christian  theory." 

"And  perhaps  they  are  no  more  to  blame  than 
others  are  for  their  especial  misconceptions." 

"That  is  just.  There  are  many  ways  in 
which  I  have  learned  of  my  people  what  has 
greatly  enriched  my  life.  We  must  admit, 
Emily,  that  what  were  in  some  sort  the  crown- 
ing virtues  of  our  fathers  are  no  longer  accord- 
ing to  the  all-powerful  Time  Spirit,  —  the  rigid 
austerity,  the  merciless  intensity  of  convic- 
tion, and  the  intolerance  which  they  produced  ! 
I  shall  never  be  again  the  man  who  used  to 
preach  in  the  church  yonder,  nor  do  I  wish  to 
be.  I  am  glad  for  the  experiences  which  have 
10  I45 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


softened  my  nature  and  broadened  my  charity. 
My  poor  mother  could  not  go  through  with  the 
process  of  transition  ;  it  simply  was  fatal  to  her. 
But  the  change  was  inevitable.  The  Puritan 
mould,  intact  as  it  has  been  kept  in  our  line,  is 
broken  in  me ;  nor  do  I  deplore  it,  except  as  a 
matter  of  sentiment,  unless  with  the  narrowness 
I  were  to  lose  the  integrity  and  strength.  The 
men  of  the  last  century  did  their  work  well. 
Another  type  of  men  is  needed  now  to  do  the 
work  of  the  world,  of  extensive  rather  than 
intensive  moral  quality,  with  wider  sympathies, 
and  with  a  faith  built  upon  the  universal  human 
needs,  not  upon  the  conception  of  an  individual 
or  a  class." 

"  I  have  felt  this,  even  here." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  because  you  think  for 
yourself,  and  are  ready  to  see  the  truth,  even  if 
it  declares  war  upon  our  old  traditions.  How- 
ever, we  have  reached  a  point  now  where  I 
can  tell  you  that  I  am  on  the  point  of  preparing 
my  resignation  as  pastor  of  All  Good  Spirits." 

"  It  does  not  greatly  surprise  me  now, 
although  it  seems  sudden." 

"  It  is  less  so  than  it  seems.  It  must  have 
come,  but  certain  things  have  precipitated  it ; 
that  young  pastor  of  yours  helped,  with  that 
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pure  face  of  his,  and  the  questions  he  had  to 
ask  me  the  other  night.  Of  course  I  could  go 
back  and  try  it  over,  but  I  see  how  it  would 
result.  The  side  of  my  nature  to  which  the 
spirit  of  my  present  church  appeals  is  too 
strong  to  play  with.  I  do  not  trust  myself. 
There  is  just  one  work  which  I  believe  I  dare 
to  try  to  do.  which  I  believe  God  means  to  give 
me,  if  I  am  not  unworthy  to  continue  in  His 
service." 

"  And  tell  me  what  it  is,  —  this  work." 
"  It  is  in  lower  New  York,  Emily ;  but  you 
do  not  know  what  that  means.  You  read  of 
the  '  submerged  tenth,'  and  you  see  a  few  poor 
folks  here  in  Thornton  with  all  the  sweet  air 
and  sunshine  in  the  world  to  live  in,  and  you 
try  to  imagine  what  the  poverty  in  great  cities 
is,  but  you  cannot.  It  means  much  that  is  very 
pitiful  and  desperately  brave ;  but  it  means  too 
evil  which  flaunts,  not  hides  itself.  But  that  is 
the  life  into  which,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
intend  to  go,  and  in  which  I  shall  remain.  I 
worked  the  problem  out  last  night.  It  took  all 
night  to  do  it,  because  I  knew  what  it  meant, 
you  see,  and  I  do  not  love  vice  and  dirt  and 
the  sight  of  suffering." 

"  It  is  not  well  to  sacrifice   for  the  sake  of 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


sacrificing,    Stephen."      Emily   said    this   With 
luminous  eyes,  looking  unafraid  into  his. 

"You  have  put  your  finger  on  a  point  of 
danger,  my  dear  girl,  but  I  believe  I  have  not 
made  that  mistake.  No,  I  am  not  seeking  to 
atone  for  the  years  in  which,  as  Newman  says, 
'  pride  ruled  my  will.'  There  is  nothing  of  the 
ascetic  in  my  nature.  It  is  this  way :  All  the 
years  that  I  have  been  in  All  Good  Spirits  I 
have  wondered  what  the  Lord  was  going  to  do 
about  the  dark  side  of  the  city.  I  could  not 
help  knowing  the  conditions  down  there,  physi- 
cal and  moral,  and  at  intervals  I  would  be 
forced  to  ask  myself  why  it  might  not  be  my 
duty  to  throw  myself  into  that  same  work. 
Plainly  the  need  was  crying.  However,  I  always 
escaped  the  question  in  one  way  or  another. 
Now  I  have  decided  that  it  is  the  work  for  me 
to  do." 

"  But  has  the  work  a  definite  shape  ?  Have 
you  some  practical  line  on  which  to  work?  " 

"  Yes.  There  is  a  poor  little  half- deserted 
chapel  down  in  Forsyth  Street,  which  I  know  of, 
where  a  spasmodic  kind  of  work  has  been  done. 
I  have  some  money  myself,  and  I  can  com- 
mand more.  I  know  I  can  get  the  chapel,  and 
I  know  I  can  get  decent  rooms  close  by  the 
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hardest  neighborhood  in  that  region,  where  I 
can  live.  Is  that  sufficiently  definite?"  and 
Stephen,  who  had  risen  and  was  helping  Emily 
down  from  her  seat,  looked  fondly  into  her 
face. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  will  do,"  she  said. 

"Does  it  sound  very  hard  to  you?"  he 
asked,  as  they  pushed  their  way  out  through 
interlacing  branches  to  the  road. 

"Not  too  hard,"  was  the  reply. 

He  stopped  her  a  moment  at  the  wood's 
edge,  and  taking  her  hands  said  simply,  — 

."  If  God  lets  me  do  this  work,  and  some  day 
I  come  back  to  ask  you,  do  you  think  you 
could  do  it  too?" 

"  I  believe  I  could,"  Emily  answered  with 
sweet  gravity;  and  they  walked  back  toward 
the  village,  not  as  they  had  come,  but  silently. 


149 


XV. 

And  we  whose  ways  were  unlike  here, 
May  then  more  neighboring  courses  ply ; 

May  to  each  other  be  brought  near, 
And  greet  across  infinity. 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

All  truly  consecrated  men  learn  little  by  little  that  what  they 
are  consecrated  to  is  not  joy  or  sorrow,  but  a  divine  idea  and  a 
profound  obedience,  which  can  find  their  full  outward  expres- 
sion, not  in  joy,  and  not  in  sorrow,  but  in  the  mysterious  and 
inseparable  mingling  of  the  two. 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

UN  a  midwinter  Sunday  night,  a  year 
and  a  half  after  that  June  day  in 
Thornton,  Stephen  Castle  is  preaching 
to  a  motley  crowd  in  the  little  down-town 
chapel  of  which  we  heard  him  speak.  The 
atmosphere  of  the  room  is  neither  pure  nor 
fragrant.  The  floors  are  bare,  the  pews  plain 
benches,  and  the  speaker  stands  upon  a  small 
platform  destitute  of  a  pulpit.  Many  of  the 
faces  before  him  are  hard.  In  the  corner  by 
the  right  of  the  platform  a  choir  of  a  dozen 
girls  is  gathered  around  a  cabinet  organ.  These 
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girls  have  an  air  of  intelligent  self-possession 
which  shows  that  some  refining  influence  has 
been  at  work  among  them,  nor  is  this  influence 
far  to  seek.  Among  them,  as  their  leader,  with 
the  pure  brow  and  clear  eyes  we  remember, 
sits  the  wife  of  Stephen  Castle,  Emily,  his  joy 
and  crown  of  life,  and  his  spirited  co-worker. 

While  a  hymn  is  being  sung  before  the  ser- 
mon, the  door  opens,  and  a  lady,  attended  by 
a  maid,  enters  the  chapel.  Stephen  Castle  does 
not  see  the  stranger  as  she  enters,  but  she  is 
seen  and  recognized  by  one  person  in  the 
room.  There  is  but  one  woman  whom  Emily 
Castle  has  ever  seen  whose  form  and  move- 
ments have  the  peculiar  grace  which  marks  the 
new-comer ;  and  although  she  cannot  distinctly 
see  her  face  beneath  its  veil,  she  knows  it  to  be 
her  husband's  old  friend,  Stephanie  Loring,  now 
the  wife  of  Lloyd  Petersham.  She  has  been 
married  while  abroad,  and  Emily  has  heard  of 
her  recent  return  to  New  York,  but  neither  she 
nor  Stephen  has  met  her. 

Stepping  forward  at  the  close  of  the  hymn 
to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  Stephen,  with  a 
small  Testament  in  his  hand,  reads  a  few  verses 
from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Hardly  has 
he  read  the  verses  when  his  eye,  accustomed 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


now  to  the  rough-hewn  type  of  feature  of  his 
chapel  hearers,  notes  that  other  face,  and  he 
knows  that  after  many  months  he  is  again  face 
to  face  with  Stephanie.  A  ray  of  uncontrollable 
joy  in  the  recognition  crosses  his  face ;  but  as 
he  goes  on  to  interpret  the  passage  chosen,  it  is 
plain  that  he  is  neither  stimulated  nor  troubled 
by  her  presence  ;  in  fact,  it  is  for  the  time  for- 
gotten with  every  other  personal  consideration. 
There  is  no  disorder  nor  inattention  in  the 
room.  Every  eye  is  riveted  upon  the  face  of 
the  preacher ;  and  the  love,  which  in  so  unusual 
a  degree  had  been  his  both  among  the  simple 
folk  in  Thornton  and  the  cultured  people  in  the 
Church  of  All  Good  Spirits,  is  seen  in  the 
unwonted  gentleness  which  softens  the  faces  of 
his  hearers. 

This  experiment  has  not  failed.  The  highest 
gifts  are  not  too  high  for  use  in  uplifting  the 
lowliest,  and  all  the  grace  and  power  and  energy 
of  Stephen  Castle's  nature  are  at  work  here 
among  the  degraded  and  outcast,  and  are 
rewarded. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  he  and  Stephanie 
meet,  with  a  warm  clasp  of  the  hand.  Then 
there  are  a  few  cordial  inquiries  concerning  the 
events  and  changes  which  the  time  of  Stepha- 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


nie's  absence  has  brought,  —  her  recovery,  her 
marriage  and  his,  and  many  other  things.  Emily 
joins  them,  and  the  women  meet  with  unaf- 
fected kindness.  It  is  not  until  then  that 
Stephen  realizes  how  greatly  Stephanie  has 
changed. 

The  lights  in  the  chapel  are  extinguished, 
and  the  three  come  out  together  into  the  frosty 
street,  where  a  carriage  is  waiting.  For  a  mo- 
ment Stephanie  pauses  on  the  threshold,  and 
Stephen  remains  beside  her. 

He  has  a  word  for  her  alone. 

"  You  will  let  me  say,  will  you  not,  how  glad 
I  was  to  know  of  your  marriage?  Petersham 
is  the  noblest  fellow  ! "  Stephen  speaks  low 
and  earnestly. 

"  Yes,  we  care  for  each  other  very  truly.  I 
am  satisfied,  and  I  believe  he  is.  Is  not  that 
enough  ?  You  will  come  to  the  house,  I  hope, 
and  bring  your  wife.  She  is  a  beautiful 
woman." 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  seek  us  out  away 
down  here.  I  thank  you  for  coming." 

"  I  wanted  to  see  for  myself,"  she  says.  "  I 
thought  you  were  mistaken  in  this  hard,  hard 
thing  you  have  done,  but  I  find  I  was  the  one 
mistaken.  You  have  done  well." 


A  Minister  of  the  World 


"  It  is  much  to  me  to  have  you  say  this." 
Stephen  speaks  as  one  deeply  moved. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  It  must  be  so.  Once  I  hurt 
you.  I  was  cruel,  but  you  forgave  me.  All 
that  I  said  then  I  can  unsay  now.  When  I 
heard  you  preach  to-night,  I  believed  in  you 
and  in  the  Christ  you  preached.  Good-night." 

Having  thus  spoken,  Stephanie  enters  her 
carriage  ;  Stephen  joins  Emily,  and  under  the 
winter  sky  they  go  their  different  ways. 


THE    END. 


'54 


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